UC-NRLF 


m 


General  Editor 
LINDSAY  TODD  DAMON 

Professor  of  English,   Brown   University 


ADDISON    AND    STEELE — Sir   Roger    de    Coverly   Papers — 

ABBOTT 
ADDISON    AND    STEELE — Selections   from   The    Taller    and 

The  Spectator — ABBOTT 
American  Short  Stories — ROYSTER 
AUSTIN — Pride   and  Prejudice — WARD 
BROWNING — Selected  Poems — REYNOLDS 
Builders  of  Democracy — GREENLAW 
BUNYAN — The  Pilgrim's  Progress — LATHAM 
BURKE — Speech    on    Conciliation    with    Collateral    Readings — • 

WARD 

BURNS — Selected  Poems          \  1       , MARSTT 

CARLYLE—  Essay  on  Burns   $  L  vo1'      MAKK 

CHAUCER — Selections — GREENLAW 

COLERIDGE — The  Ancient  Mariner  \  1        ,       Monnv 

LOWELL—  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal        $  *  VOL~ MO 

COOPER — The  Last  of  the  Mohicans — LEWIS 

COOPER — The  Spy — DAMON 

DANA — Two  Tears  Before  the  Mast — WESTCOTT 

DEFOE — Robinson   Crusoe — HASTINGS 

Democracy  Today — GAUSS 

DE  QUINCEY — The  Flight  of  a  Tartar  Tribe — FRENCH 

DE  QUINCEY — Joan  of  Arc  and  Selections — MOODY 

DICKENS — A  Christmas  Carol,  etc. — BROADUS 

DICKENS — A   Tale   of  Two  Cities — BALDWIN 

DICKENS — David  Copper  field — BALDWIN 

DRYDEN — Palamon  and  Arcite — COOK 

ELIOT,    GEORGE — Silas   Marner — HANCOCK 

ELIOT,    GEORGE — The  Mill  on  the  Floss — WARD 

EMERSON — Essays  and  Addresses — HEYDRICK 

English    Poems — From    POPE,    GRAY,    GOLDSMITH,    COLERIDGE, 

BYRON,   MACATJLAY,  ARNOLD,   and  others — SCUDDER 
English  Popular  Ballads — HART 
Essays — English  and  American — ALDEN 
Familiar  Letters,  English  and  American — GREENLAW 
FRANKLIN — Autobiography — GRIFFEN 
French  Short  Stories — SCHWEIKERT 
GASKELL  (Mrs.) — Cranford — HANCOCK 
GOLDSMITH — The  Vicar  of  Wakefield — MORTON 
HAWTHORNE — The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables — HERRICK 
HAWTHORNE — Twice-Told  Tales — HERRICK   AND   BRUERE 
HUGHES — Tom  Brown's  School  Days — DE  MILLF 
IRVING — Life  of  Goldsmith — KRAPP 
IRVING — The  Sketch  Book — KRAPP 


ffiafe?  lotgltelf  GHaasfru 


IRVING  —  Tafes  o/  a  Traveller  —  and  parts  of  The  Sketch  Book 

—  KRAPP 

LAMB  —  Essays  of  Ella  —  BENEDICT 
LONGFELLOW  —  Narrative  Poems  —  POWELL 
LOWELL  —  Visions  of  Sir  Launfal  —  See  Coleridge 
MACAULAY  —  Essays  on  Addison  and  Johnson  —  NEWCOMER 
MACAULAY  —  Essays  on  Clive  and  Hastings  —  NEWCOMER 
MACAULAY  —  Goldsmith,  Frederic  the  Great,  Madame  D'Arblay 

—  NEWCOMER 

MACAULAY  —  Essays  on  Milton  and  Addison  —  NEWCOMER 
MILTON  —  L'  Allegro,     II     Penseroso,     Comus,     and     Lycidas  — 

NEILSON 

MILTON  —  Paradise  Lost,  Books  I  and  II  —  FARLEY 
Modern  Plays,  A   Book  of  —  COFFMAN 
Old  Testament  Narratives  —  RHODES 
One   Hundred   Narrative  Poems  —  TETER 
PALGRAVE  —  The   Golden  Treasury  —  NEWCOMER 
PARKMAN  —  The   Oregon   Trail  —  MACDONALD 
POE  —  Poems  and  Tales,  Selected  —  NEWCOMER 
POPE  —  Homer's  Iliad,  Books  I,  VI,  XXII,  XXIV  —  CRESSY  AND 

MOODY 

READE  —  The  Cloister  and  the  Hearth  —  DE  MILLE 
RUSKIN  —  Sesame  and  Lilies  —  LINN 
Russian  Short  Stories  —  SCHWEIKERT 
SCOTT  —  Lady  of  the  Lake  —  MOODY 

SCOTT  —  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel  —  MOODY  AND  WILLARD 
SCOTT  —  Harmion  —  MOODY  AND  WILLARD 
SCOTT  —  Ivanhoe  —  SIMONDS 
SCOTT  —  Quentin  Durward  —  SIMONDS 

Selections  from  the  Writings  of  Abraham  Lincoln  —  HAMILTON 
SHAKSPERE  —  The  Neilson  Edition  —  Edited  by  W.  A.  NEILSON, 

As  You  Like  It  Macbeth 

Hamlet  Midsummer-Night's  Dream 

Henry  V  Romeo   and  Juliet 

Julius  Ccesar  The  Tempest 

Twelfth  Night 

SHAKSPERE  —  The  Merchant  of  Venice  —  LOVETT 
SOUTHEY  —  Life  of  Nelson  —  WESCOTT 
STEVENSON  —  Inland   Voyage   and  Travels   with    a   Donkey  — 

LEONARD 

STEVENSON  —  Kidnapped  —  LEONARD 
STEVENSON  —  Treasure  Island  —  BROADUS 
TENNYSON  —  Selected  Poems  —  REYNOLDS 
TENNYSON  —  The  Princess  —  COPELAND 
THACKERAY  —  English   Humorists  —  CUNLIFFE   AND   WATT 
THACKERAY  —  Henry   Esmond  —  PHELPS 
THOREAU  —  Walden  —  BOWMAN 
Three  American  Poems  —  The  Raven,  Snow-Bound,  Miles  Stand- 

ish  —  GREEVER 

Types  of  the  Short  Story  —  HEYDRICK 
VIRGIL  —  MneiA  —  ALLINSON  AND  ALLINSON 
Washington,  Webster,  Lincoln,  Selections  from  —  DENNEY 

SCOTT,  FORESMAN  AND  COMPANY 

CHICAGO         ATLANTA          DALLAS          NEW  YORK 


Hake  englteb  Classics 


REVISED  EDITION  WITH  HELPS  TO  STUDY 

SHAKSPERE'S 

AS  YOU  LIKE  IT 


EDITED  BY 

WILLIAM  ALLAN  NEILSON 

PRESIDENT  SMITH  COLLEGE 


SCOTT,  FORESMAN  AND  COMPANY 

CHICAGO  ATLANTA  NEW  YORK 


REPLACING 


CASE 


COPYRIGHT,  1903,   1919,  BY 
SCOTT,  FORESMAN  AND  COMPANY 
348.34 


fKEFAUE, 

The  aim  in  the  volumes  of  this  series  is  to  pre- 
sent a  satisfactory  text  of  each  play,  modernized 
in  spelling  and  punctuation,  with  as  full  an 
equipment  of  explanation  and  comment  as  is 
necessary  for  thorough  intelligibility.  The  first 
section  of  the  introduction  is  intended  to  give  the 
student  an  idea  of  the  place  of  the  play  in  the 
history  of  the  English  Drama  in  general  and  of 
Shakspere's  development  in  particular.  In  the 
present  volume  a  considerable  amount  of  space 
in  the  second  section  has  been  devoted  to  the 
source  of  the  play  and  to  Shakspere's  adaptation 
of  it  to  his  dramatic  purposes.  The  mere  state- 
ment of  the  name  of  the  book  from  which  the 
plot  is  drawn  is  of  little  significance  unless  the 
student  is  enabled  to  form  some  conception  of 
the  omissions,  additions,  and  modifications  to 
which  the  earlier  work  was  subjected  by  the 
dramatist.  An  attempt  has  therefore  been  made 
to  give  a  concise  summary  of  those  features  in 
Lodge's  novel  of  Rosalynde  a  comparison  of 
which  with  the  corresponding  parts  of  As  You 
Like  It  helps  to  throw  light  on  Shakspere's 
aim  and  methods.  The  task  of  aesthetic  inter- 
pretation has  been  for  the  most  part  left  to  the 
teacher,  and  the  significance  of  the  changes  just 


O  PREFACE, 

mentioned  has  been  merely  hinted  at ;  but  it  may 
be  suggested  here  that  few  methods  of  enabling 
students  to  realize  the  greatness  of  Shakspere's 
achievement  are  so  effective  as  that  of  a  point  by 
point  comparison  of  the  crude  material  with  the 
finished  masterpiece.  In  the  present  instance  a 
group  of  somewhat  conventional  and  artificial 
characters  are  transformed  into  living  persons 
whose  individual  qualities  of  mind  and  tempera- 
ment we  know  as  we  know  those  of  our  personal 
friends;  by  a  series  of  subtle  touches  the  scene 
gains  a  local  color  and  the  society  an  atmosphere 
as  distinctive  as  they  are  delightful;  and  to  a 
merely  entertaining  romance  is  added  an  under- 
current of  philosophy  and  shrewd  and  humorous 
comment  on  human  life  as  wise  and  wholesome  as 
it  is  unobtrusive. 

Complete  texts  of  Lodge's  Eosalynde  may  be 
found  in  Hazlitt's  Shakspeare*  s  Library ',  volume 
II,  in  Dr.  Furness's  Variorum  edition  of  A  s  You 
Like  It*  in  a  recent  edition  in  Newnes's  Caxton 
Series,  and  in  inexpensive  form  in  Cassell's 
National  Library. 

For  further  details  on  the  life  ana  works  of 
Shakspere  the  following  books  may  be  referred 
to:  Dowden's  Shakspere  Primer  and  Sliak- 
spere>  His  Mind  and  Art;  Sidney  Lee's  Life  of 
William  Shakespeare;  Barrett  Wendell's  William 
Shakspere;  and  Shakspere  and  His  Predecessors^ 
by  If,  S.  Boas.  The  most  exhaustive  account  of 


PREFACE.  T 

the  English  Drama  is  A.  W.  Ward's  History  of 
English  Dramatic  Literature.  Both  this  work 
and  that  of  Sidney  Lee  are  rich  in  bibliographical 
information.  For  questions  of  language  and 
grammar,  see  A.  Schmidt's  Shakespeare  Lexicon; 
J.  Bartlett's  Concordance  to  Shakespeare:  Little- 
dale's  new  edition  of  Dyce's  Glossary  to  Shake- 
speare (New  York,  1902);  and  E.  A.  Abbott's 
Shakespearian  Grammar.  For  general  questions 
of  dramatic  construction  see  Gustav  Freytag's 
Techmk  des  Dramas,  translated  into  English  by 
E.  J.  MacEwan;  and  Dr.  Elisabeth  Woodbridge's 
The  Drama,  its  Law  and  its  Technique. 
HARVARD  UNIVERSITY, 
March,  1903, 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

PREFACE      5 

INTRODUCTION 

I.     Shakspere  and  the  English  Drama    .      .      .11 

II.     As  You  Like  It 29 

TEXT 45 

NOTES 164 

WORD  INDEX 201 

APPENDIX 

Helps  to  Study     ...      0      ......   208 

Chronological  Table c      .      .216 


INTRODUCTION. 

I.       SHAKSPERE    AND   THE    ENGLISH    DRAMA. 

The  wonderful  rapidity  of  the  development  of 
the  English  drama  in  the  last  quarter  of  the  six- 
teenth century  stands  in  striking  contrast  to  the 
slowness  of  its  growth  before  that  period.  The 
religious  drama,  out  of  which  the  modern  dramatic 
forms  were  to  spring,  had  dragged  through  centu- 
ries with  comparatively  little  change,  and  was  still 
alive  when,  in  1576,  the  first  theatre  was  built  in 
London.  By  1600  Shakspere  had  written  more 
than  half  his  plays  and  stood  completely  master  of 
the  art  which  he  brought  to  a  pitch  unsurpassed 
in  any  age.  Much  of  this  extraordinary  later 
progress  was  due  to  contemporary  causes;  but 
there  entered  into  it  also  certain  other  elements 
which  can  be  understood  only  in  the  light  of  the 
attempts  that  had  been  made  in  the  three  or  four 
preceding  centuries. 

In  England,  as  in  Greece,  the  drama  sprang  from 
religious  ceremonial.  The  Mass,  the  centre  of 
The  Drama  ^ne  P11^0  worship  of  the  Eoman 
before  church,  contained  dramatic  mate- 

Shakspere.  ^    jn      ^     gegtureg    of    the    oflfic^ 

ating  priests,  in  the  narratives  contained  in  the 

Lessons,  and  in  the  responsive  singing  and  cbant- 

U 


-<  INTRODUCTION. 

ing.  Latin,  the  language  in  which  the  services 
were  conducted,  was  unintelligible  to  the  mass  of 
the  people,  and  as  early  as  the  fifth  century  the 
clergy  had  begun  to  use  such  devices  as  tableaux 
vivants  of  scenes  like  the  marriage  in  Cana  and 
the  Adoration  of  the  Magi  to  make  comprehen- 
sible important  events  in  Bible  history.  Later, 
the  Easter  services  were  illuminated  by  repre- 
sentations of  the  scene  at  the  sepulchre  on  the 
morning  of  the  Kesurrection,  in  which,  a  wooden, 
and  afterwards  a  stone,  structure  was  used  for  the 
tomb  itself,  and  the  dialogue  was  chanted  by  differ- 
ent speakers  representing  respectively  the  angel, 
the  disciples,  and  the  women.  From  such  begin- 
nings as  this  there  gradually  evolved  the  earliest 
forms  of  the  MIRACLE  PLAY. 

As  the  presentations  became  more  elaborate, 
the  place  of  performance  was  moved  first  to  the 
churchyard,  then  to  the  fields,  and  finally  to  the 
streets  and  open  spaces  of  the  towns.  With  this 
change  of  locality  went  a  change  in  the  language 
and  in  the  actors,  and  an  extension  of  the  field  from 
which  the  subjects  were  chosen.  Latin  gave  way 
to  the  vernacular,  and  the  priests  to  laymen;  and 
miracle  plays  representing  the  lives  of  patron 
saints  were  given  by  schools,  trade  gilds,  and 
other  lay  institutions.  A  further  development 
appeared  when,  instead  of  single  plays,  whole 
series  such  as  the  extant  York,  Chester,  and 
Coventry  cycles  were  given,  dealing  in  chrono- 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.        IB 

logical  order  with  the  most  important  events  in 
Bible  history  from  the  Creation  to  the  Day  of 
Judgment. 

The  stage  used  for  the  miracle  play  as  thus 
developed  was  a  platform  mounted  on  wheels, 
which  was  moved  from  space  to  space  through 
the  streets.  Each  trade  undertook  one  or  more 
plays,  and,  when  possible,  these  were  allotted  with 
reference  to  the  nature  of  the  particular  trade. 
Thus  the  play  representing  the  visit  of  the  Magi 
bearing  gifts  to  the  infant  Christ  was  given  to  the 
goldsmiths,  and  the  Building  of  the  Ark  to  the 
carpenters.  The  costumes  were  conventional  and 
frequently  grotesque.  Judas  always  wore  red 
hair  and  a  red  beard ;  Herod  appeared  as  a  fierce 
Saracen ;  the  devil  had  a  terrifying  mask  and  a 
tail ;  and  divine  personages  wore  gilt  hair. 

Meanwhile  the  attitude  of  the  church  towards 
these  performances  had  changed.  Priests  were 
forbidden  to  take  part  in  them,  and  as  early  as 
the  fourteenth  century  we  find  sermons  directed 
against  them.  The  secular  management  had  a 
more  important  result  in  the  introduction  of 
comic  elements.  Figures  such  as  Noah's  wife  and 
Herod  became  frankly  farcical,  and  whole  episodes 
drawn  from  contemporary  life  and  full  of  local 
color  were  invented,  in  which  the  original  aim 
of  edification  was  displaced  by  an  explicit  attempt 
at  pure  entertainment.  Most  of  these  features 
were  characteristic  of  the  religions  <3?*ma  --n 


14  INTRODUCTION. 

eral  throughout  Western  Europe.  But  the  local 
and  contemporary  elements  naturally  tended  to 
become  national ;  and  in  England  we  find  in  these 
humorous  episodes  the  beginnings  of  native 
comedy. 

Long  before  the  miracle  plays  had  reached  their 
height,  the  next  stage  in  the  development  of  the 
drama  had  begun.  Even  in  very  early  performances 
there  had  appeared,  among  the  dramatis  personae 
drawn  from  the  Scriptures,  personifications  of 
abstract  qualities  such  as  Righteousness,  Peace, 
Mercy,  and  Truth.  In  the  fifteenth  century  this 
allegorical  tendency,  which  was  prevalent  also  in 
the  non-dramatic  literature  of  the  age,  resulted  in 
the  rise  of  another  kind  of  play,  the  MORALITY, 
in  which  all  the  characters  were  personifications, 
and  in  which  the  aim,  at  first  the  teaching  of 
moral  lessons,  later  became  frequently  satirical. 
Thus  the  most  powerful  of  all  the  Moralities, 
Sir  David  Lindesay's  Satire  of  the  Three  Estates, 
is  a  direct  attack  upon  the  corruption  in  the 
church  just  before  the  Reformation. 

The  advance  implied  in  the  Morality  consisted 
not  so  much  in  any  increase  in  the  vitality  of  the 
characters  or  in  the  interest  of  the  plot  (in  both 
of  which,  indeed,  there  was  usually  a  falling  off), 
as  in  the  fact  that  in  it  the  drama  had  freed 
itself  from  the  bondage  of  having  to  choose* its 
subject  matter  from  one  set  of  sources — the 
Bible,  the  Apocrypha,  and  the  Lives  of  the  Saints. 


SEAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.       15 

This  freedom  was  shared  by  the  INTERLUDE,  a 
form  not  always  to  be  distinguished  from  the 
Morality,  but  one  in  which  the  tendency  was  to 
substitute  for  personified  abstractions  actual 
social  types  such  as  the  Priest,  the  Pardoner,  or 
the  Palmer.  A  feature  of  both  forms  was  the 
Vice,  a  humorous  character  who  appeared  under 
the  various  disguises  of  Hypocrisy,  Fraud,  and 
the  like,  and  whose  function  it  was  to  make  fun, 
chiefly  at  the  expense  of  the  Devil.  The  Vice 
is  historically  important  as  having  bequeathed 
some  of  his  characteristics  to  the  Fool  of  the  later 
drama. 

John  Heywood,  the  most  important  writer  of 
Interludes,  lived  well  into  the  reign  of  Elizabeth, 
and  even  the  miracle  play  persisted  into  the 
reign  of  her  successor  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury. But  long  before  it  finally  disappeared 
it  had  become  a  mere  medieval  survival.  A  new 
England  had  meantime  come  into  being  and  new 
forces  were  at  work,  manifesting  themselves  in  a 
dramatic  literature  infinitely  beyond  anything 
even  suggested  by  the  crude  forms  which  have 
been  described. 

The  great  European  intellectual  movement 
known  as  the  Kenaissance  had  at  last  reached 
England,  and  it  brought  with  it  materials  for  an 
unparalleled  advance  in  all  the  living  forms  of 
literature.  Italy  and  the  classics,  especially, 
supplied  literary  models  and  material.  Not  only 


Ib  INTRODUCTION. 

were  translations  from  these  sources  aoundant, 
but  Italian  players  visited  England,  and  per- 
formed before  Queen  Elizabeth.  France  and 
Spain,  as  well  as  Italy,  flooded  the  literary  mar- 
ket with  collections  of  tales,  from  which,  both  in 
the  original  languages  and  in  such  translations  as 
are  found  in  Paynter's  Palace  of  Pleasure  (pub- 
lished 1566-67),  the  dramatists  drew  materialc 
for  their  plots. 

These  literary  conditions,  however,  did  not  do 
much  beyond  offering  a  means  of  expression. 
For  a  movement  so  magnificent  in  scale  as  that 
which  produced  the  Elizabethan  Drama,  some- 
thing is  needed  besides  models  and  material.  In 
the  present  instance  this  something  is  to  be  found 
in  the  state  of  exaltation  which  characterized  the 
spirit  of  the  English  people  in  the  days  of  Queen 
Elizabeth.  Politically,  the  nation  was  at  last  one 
after  the  protracted  divisions  of  the  Reformation, 
and  its  pride  was  stimulated  by  its  success  in  the 
fight  with  Spain.  Intellectually,  it  was  sharing 
with  the  rest  of  Europe  the  exhilaration  of  the 
Renaissance.  New  lines  of  action  in  all  parts  of 
the  world,  new  lines  of  thought  in  all  depart- 
ments of  scholarship  and  speculation,  were  open- 
ing up ;  and  the  whole  land  was  throbbing  with 
life. 

In  its  very  beginnings  the  new  movement  in  Eng- 
land showed  signs  of  that  combination  of  native 
tradition  and  foreign  influence  which  was  to  char- 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.         1? 

acterize  it  throughout.  The  first  regular  English 
comedy,  Udall's  Ralph  Roister  Doister  was  an 
adaptation  of  the  plot  of  the  Miles  Gloriosus  of 
Plautus  to  contemporary  English  life.  After  a 
short  period  of  experiment  by  amateurs  working 
chiefly  tinder  the  influence  of  Seneca,  we  come  on 
a  band  of  professional  playwrights  who  not  only 
prepared  the  way  for  Shakspere,  but  in  somo 
instances  produced  works  of  great  intrinsic  worth. 
The  mythological  dramas  of  Lyly  with  the  bright 
repartee  of  their  prose  dialogue  and  the  music  of 
their  occasional  lyrics,  the  interesting  experiments 
of  Greene  and  Peele,  and  the  horrors  of  the 
tragedy  of  Kyd,  are  all  full  of  suggestions  of  what 
was  to  come.  But  by  far  the  greatest  of  Shaks- 
pere's  forerunners  was  Christopher  Marlowe,  who 
not  only  has  the  credit  of  fixing  blank  verse  as  the 
future  poetic  medium  for  English  tragedy,  but 
who  in  his  plays  from  Tamburlaine  to  Edward  II. 
contributed  to  the  list  of  the  great  permanent 
masterpieces  of  the  English  drama. 

It  was  in  the  professional  society  of  these  men 
that  Shakspere  found  himself  when  he  came  to 
London.  Born  in  the  provincial 
town  of  Stratford-on-Avon  in  the 
heart  of  England,  he  was  bap- 
tized on  April  26,  15G4  (May  6th,  according  to 
our  reckoning).  The  exact  day  of  his  birth  i-s 
unknown.  His  father  was  John  Shakspere,  a 
fairly  prosperous  tradesmanr  who  may  be  suppose^ 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

to  have  followed  the  custom  of  his  class  in  edu- 
cating his  son.  If  this  were  so,  William  would  be 
sent  to  the  Grammar  School,  already  able  to 
read,  when  he  was  seven,  and  there  he  would  be 
set  to  work  on  Latin  Grammar,  followed  by  read- 
ing, up  to  the  fourth  year,  in  Cato's  Maxims, 
Aesop's  Fables,  and  parts  of  Ovid,  Cicero,  and 
the  medieval  poet  Mantuanus.  If  he  continued 
through  the  fifth  and  sixth  years,  he  would  read 
parts  of  Vergil,  Horace,  Terence,  Plautus,  and 
the  Satirists.  Greek  was  not  usually  taught  in 
the  Grammar  Schools.  Whether  he  went  through 
this  course  or  not  we  have  no  means  of  knowing, 
except  the  evidence  afforded  by  the  use  of  the 
classics  in  his  works,  and  the  famous  dictum  of 
his  friend,  Ben  Jonson,  that  he  had  "  small 
Latin  and  less  Greek,"  What  we  are  sure  of  is 
that  he  was  a  boy  with  remarkable  acuteness  of 
observation,  who  used  his  chances  for  picking  up 
facts  of  all  kinds;  for  only  thus  could  he  have 
accumulated  the  fund  of  information  which  he 
put  to  such  a  variety  of  uses  in  his  writings. 

Throughout  the  poet's  boyhood  the  fortunes  of 
John  Shakspere  kept  improving  until  he  reached 
the  position  of  High  Bailiff  or  Mayor  of  Stratford. 
When  William  was  about  thirteen,  however,  his 
father  began  to  meet  with  reverses,  and  these  are 
conjectured  to  have  led  to  the  boy's  being  taken 
from  school  early  and  set  to  work.  Yv7hat  business 
he  was  taught  we  do  not  know,  and  indeed  we 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.       19 

have  little  more  information  about  him  till  the 
date  of  his  marriage  in  November,  1582,  to  Anne 
Hathaway,  a  woman  from  a  neighboring  village, 
who  was  seven  years  his  senior.  Concerning  his 
occupations  in  the  years  immediately  preceding 
and  succeeding  his  marriage  .several  traditions 
have  come  down, — of  his  having  been  apprenticed 
as  a  butcher,  of  his  having  taken  part  in  poaching 
expeditions,  and  the  like — but  none  of  these  is 
based  upon  sufficient  evidence.  About  1585  he 
left  Stratford,  and  probably  by  the  next  year  he 
had  found  his  way  to  London. 

How  soon  and  in  what  capacity  he  first  became 
attached  to  the  theatres  we  are  again  unable  to 
say,  but  by  1592  he  had  certainly  been  engaged 
in  theatrical  affairs  long  enough  to  give  some 
occasion  for  the  jealous  outburst  of  a  rival  play- 
wright, Robert  Greene,  who,  in  a  pamphlet 
posthumously  published  in  that  year,  accused  him 
of  plagiarism.  Henry  Chettle,  the  editor  of 
Greene's  pamphlet,  shortly  after  apologized  for  his 
connection  with  the  charge,  and  bore  witness  to 
Shakspere's  honorable  reputation  as  a  man  and  to 
his  skill  both  as  an  actor  and  a  dramatist. 

Robert  Greene,  who  thus  supplies  us  with  the 
earliest  extant  indications  of  his  rival's  presence 
in  London,  was  in  many  ways  a  typical  figure  among 
the  playwrights  with  whom  Shakspere  worked 
during  this  early  period.  A  member  of  both 
universities,  Greene  came  to  the  metropolis  while 


20  INTRODUCTION, 

yet  a  young  man,  and  there  led  a  life  of  the  most 
diversified  literary  activity,  varied  with  bouts  of 
the  wildest  debauchery.  He  was  a  writer  of 
satirical  and  controversial  pamphlets,  of  romantic 
tales,  of  elegiac,  pastoral,  and  lyric  poetry,  a 
translator,  a  dramatist, — in  fact,  a  literary  jack- 
of -all -trades.  The  society  in  which  he  lived  con- 
sisted in  part  of  "University  Wits"  like  himself, 
in  part  of  the  low  men  and  women  who  haunted 
the  vile  taverns  of  the  slums  to  prey  upon  such  as 
he.  "A  world  of  blackguardism  dashed  with 
genius,"  it  has  been  called,  and  the  phrase  is  fit 
enough.  Among  such  surroundings  Greene  lived, 
and  among  them  he  died,  bankrupt  in  body  and 
estate,  the  victim  of  his  own  ill -governed  passions. 
In  conjunction  with  such  men  as  this  Shakspere 
began  his  life-work.  His  first  dramatic  efforts 
were  made  in  revising  the  plays  of  his  predeces- 
sors with  a  view  to  their  revival  on  the  stage ;  and 
in  Titus  Andronicus  and  the  first  part  of  Henry 

VI.  we  have  examples  of  this  kind  of  work. 
The  next  step  was  probably  the  production  of 
plays  in  collaboration  with  other  writers,  and  to 
this  practice,  which  he  almost  abandoned  in  the 
middle  of  his  career,  he  seems  to  have  returned  in 
his  later  years  in  such  plays  as  Pericles,  Henry 

VIII.,  and  The  Two  Noble  Kinsman.  How  far 
Shakspere  was  of  this  dissolute  set  to  which  his 
fellow- workers  belonged  it  is  impossible  to  tell; 
but  we  know  that  bv  and  by,  as  he  gained  mastery 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA.        21 

over  his  art  and  became  more  and  more  independ- 
ent in  work  and  in  fortune,  he  left  this  sordid 
life  behind  him,  and  aimed  at  the  establishment 
of  a  family.  In  half  a  dozen  years  from  the  time 
of  Greene's  attack,  he  had  reached  the  top  of  his 
profession,  was  a  sharer  in  the  profits  of  his 
theatre,  and  had  invested  his  savings  in  land  and 
houses  in  his  native  town.  The  youth  who  ten 
years  before  had  left  Stratford  poor  and  burdened 
with  a  wife  and  three  children,  had  now  become 
44 William  Shakspere,  Gentleman.*' 

During  these  years  Shakspere's  literary  work 
wae  not  confined  to  the  drama,  which,  indeed, 
was  then  hardly  regarded  as  a  form  of  literature. 
In  1593  he  published  Venus  and  Adonis,  and  in 
1594,  Lucrece,  two  poems  belonging  to  a  class  of 
highly  wrought  versions  of  classical  legends  which 
was  then  fashionable,  and  of  which  Marlowe's 
Hero  and  Leander  is  the  other  most  famous  ex- 
ample. For  several  years,  too,  in  the  last  decade 
of  the  sixteenth  century  and  the  first  few  years 
of  the  seventeenth,  he  was  composing  a  series 
of  sonnets  on  love  and  friendship,  in  this,  too, 
following  a  literary  fashion  of  the  time.  Yet 
these  give  us  more  in  the  way  of  self -revelation 
than  anything  else  he  has  left.  Prom  them  we 
seem  to  be  able  to  catch  glimpses  of  his  attitude 
towards  his  profession,  and  one  of  them  makes  us 
realize  so  vividly  his  perception  of  the  tragic  risks 
of  his  surroundings  that  it  is  set  down  here : 


22  INTRODUCTION. 

O,  for  my  sake  do  you  with  Fortune  chide, 

The  guilty  goddess  of  my  harmful  deeds, 
That  did  not  better  for  my  life  provide 

Than  public  means  which  public  manners  breeds. 
Thence  comes  it  that  my  name  receives  a  brand, 

And  almost  thence  my  nature  is  subdued 
To  what  it  works  in,  like  the  dyer's  hand: 

Pity  me  then  and  wish  I  were  renewed ; 
Whilst,  like  a  willing  patient,  I  will  drink 

Potions  of  eisel  'gainst  my  strong  infection; 
No  bitterness  that  I  will  bitter  think, 

Nor  double  penance  to  correct  correction. 
Pity  me  then,  dear  friend,  and  I  assure  ye 

Even  that  your  pity  is  enough  to  cure  me. 

It  does  not  seem  possible  to  avoid  the  inferences 
lying  on  the  surface  in  this  poem ;  but  whatever 
confessions  it  may  imply,  it  serves,  too,  to  give  us 
the  assurance  that  Shakspere  did  not  easily  and 
blindly  yield  to  the  temptations  that  surrounded 
the  life  of  the  theatre  of  his  time. 

For  the  theatre  of  Shaksperers  day  was  no  very 
reputable  affair.  Externally  it  appears  to  us  now 
The  Eliza-  a  very  meagre  apparatus — almost 
.bethan  absurdly  so,  when  we  reflect  on  the 

grandeur  of  the  compositions  for 
which  it  gave  occasion.  A  roughly  circular 
wooden  building,  with  a  roof  over  the  stage 
and  over  the  galleries,  but  with  the  pit  often 
open  to  the  wind  and  weather,  having  very 
little  scenery  and  practically  no  attempt  at  the 
achievement  of  stage-illusion, — such  was  the 
scene  of  the  production  of  some  of  the  greatest 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DRAMA*         2* 

imaginative  works  the  world  has  seen.  Nor  was 
the  audience  very  choice.  The  more  respectable 
citizens  of  Paritan  tendencies  frowned  on  the 
theatre  to  such  an  extent  that  it  was  found  advis- 
able to  place  the  buildings  outside  the  city  limits, 
and  beyond  the  jurisdiction  of  the  city  fathers, 
The  pit  was  thronged  with  a  motley  crowd  oi 
petty  tradesfolk  and  the  dregs  of  the  town ;  the 
gallants  of  the  time  sat  on  stools  on  the  stage, 
" drinking"  tobacco  and  chaffing  the  actors,  their 
efforts  divided  between  displaying  their  wit  and 
their  clothes.  The  actors  were  all  male,  the 
women's  parts  being  taken  by  boys  whose  voices 
were  not  yet  broken.  The  costumes,  frequently 
the  cast-off  clothing  of  the  gallants,  were  often 
gorgeous,  but  seldom  appropriate.  Thus  the  suc- 
cess of  the  performance  had  to  depend  upon  the 
excellence  of  the  piece,  the  merit  of  the  acting, 
and  the  readiness  of  appreciation  of  the  audience. 
This  last  point,  however,  was  more  to  be  relied 
upon  than  a  modern  student  might  imagine, 
Despite  their  dubious  respectability,  the  Eliza> 
bethan  play-goers  must  have  been  of  wonderfully 
keen  intellectual  susceptibilities.  For  clever  feats 
in  the  manipulation  of  language,  for  puns, 
happy  alliterations,  delicate  melody  such  as  we 
find  in  the  lyrics  of  the  times,  for  the  thunder  of 
the  pentameter  as  it  rolls  through  the  tragedies  of 
Marlowe,  they  had  a  practiced  taste.  Qualities 
which  we  now  expect  to  appeal  chiefly  to  the 


24  INTRODUCTION. 

closet  student  were  keenly  relished  by  men  who 
could  neither  read  nor  write,  and  who  at  the  same 
time  enjoyed  jokes  which  would  be  too  broad,  and 
stage  massacres  which  would  be  too  bloody,  for  a 
modern  audience  of  sensibilities  much  less  acute 
in  these  other  directions.  In  it  all  we  see  how 
far-reaching  was  the  wonderful  vitality  of  the 
time. 

This  audience  Shakspere  knew  thoroughly,  and 
in  his  writing  he  showed  himself  always,  with 
shakspere's  whatever  growth  in  permanent  ar- 
Dramatic  tistic  qualities,  the  clever  man  of 

nt*  business  with  his  eye  on  the  mar- 
ket. Thus  we  can  trace  throughout  the  course 
of  his  production  two  main  lines:  one  indicative 
of  the  changes  of  theatrical  fashions;  one,  more 
subtle  and  more  liable  to  misinterpretation,  show- 
ing the  progress  of  his  own  spiritual  growth. 

The  chronology  of  Shakspere's  plays  will  prob- 
ably never  be  made  out  with  complete  assurance, 
but  already  much  has  been  ascertained  (1)  from 
external  evidence  such  as  dates  of  acting  or  pub- 
lication, and  allusions  in  other  works,  and  (2) 
from  internal  evidence  such  as  references  to  books 
or  events  of  known  date,  and  considerations  of 
metre  and  language.  The  following  arrangement 
represents  what  is  probably  an  approximately 
correct  view  of  the  chronological  sequence  of  his 
works,  though  scholars  are  far  from  being  agreed 
upon  many  of  the  details. 


SHAKSPERE  AND  ENGLISH  DEAMA. 


.  .  .  Julius  Caesar 
.  .  .  Hamlet 

.  .  .  Othello 
.  .  .  Macbeth 
.  .  .  King  Lear 
...  Timon  of  Athens 
.  .  .  Antony  and  Cleopatra 
.  .  .  Coriolanus 

8*8      :  : 

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a      o      •   ; 

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<D   05     .      • 

3     ^  g  :  : 

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S.-B   '    ' 

:  :«  :  : 

:  :  ;  :  :  :  :  : 

W                0  '""'  '^ 

a  i  I  £?  "  .   '  . 

S          ^'o'o 

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:  .  :  w 

g  .,.,.. 

§  :  :  : 

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O  *M    rr 

c^  ^3  •  • 

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Is       4; 

:  :  :  g 

COMEDIES, 
f  Love's  Labor's  L 
Two  Gentlemen  o 
1590-93.  .  j  Comedy  of  Error 

KT2             CO             CD 
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f-t               rH               rH 

II 

i  in  ;  :  ;  • 

(  Cymbelme  
1610,  11.  .  -j  Winter's  Tale  .  ,  . 
(  Tempest  
1612,  13.  .  .Two  Noble  Kinsn 

III  ! 

.    I    I    I    o      !    I    . 

§^OOO     0     OOO 
CD  CD  CD      CD      CD  CO  CD 

26  INTRODUCTION. 

The  first  of  these  groups  contains  three  comedies 
of  a  distinctly  experimental  character,  and  a 
numher  of  chronicle-histories,  some  of  which,  like 
the  three  parts  of  Henry  F/.,  were  almost  cer- 
tainly written  in  collaboration  with  other  play- 
wrights. The  comedies  are  light,  full  of  ingen- 
ious plays  on  words,  and  the  verse  is  often 
rhymed.  The  first  of  them,  at  least,  shows  the 
influence  of  Lyly.  The  histories  also  hetray  a 
considerable  delight  in  language  for  its  own  sake, 
and  the  Marlowesque  blank  verse,  at  its  best 
eloquent  and  highly  poetical,  not  infrequently 
becomes  ranting,  while  the  pause  at  the  end  of 
each  line  tends  to  become  monotonous.  No  copy 
of  Romeo  and  Juliet  in  its  earliest  form  is  known 
to  be  in  existence,  and  the  extent  of  Shakspere's 
share  in  Titus  Andronicus  is  still  debated. 

The  second  period  contains  a  group  of  comedies 
marked  by  brilliance  in  the  dialogue ;  wholesome- 
ness,  capacity,  and  high  spirits  in  the  main  char- 
acters, and  a  pervading  feeling  of  good-humor. 
The  histories  contain  a  larger  comic  element  than 
in  the  first  period,  and  are  no  longer  suggestive  of 
Marlowe.  Khymes  have  become  less  frequent,  and 
the  blank  verse  has  freed  itself  from  the  bondage 
of  the  end-stopped  line. 

The  plays  of  the  third  period  are  tragedies,  or 
comedies  with  a  prevailing  tragic  tone.  Shaks- 
pere  here  turned  his  attention  to  those  elements 
in  life  which  produce  perplexity  and  disaster,  and 


SHAKSPERE  AJSD  ENGLISH  DRAMA,         27 

in  this  series  of  masterpieces  we  have  his  most 
magnificent  achievement.  His  power  of  perfect 
adaptation  of  language  to  thought  and  feeling 
had  now  reached  its  height,  and  his  verse  had 
become  thoroughly  flexible  without  having  lost 
strength. 

In  the  fourth  period  Shakspere  returned  to 
comedy.  These  plays,  written  during  his  last 
years  in  London,  are  again  romantic  in  subject 
and  treatment,  and  technically  seem  to  show  the 
influence  of  the  earlier  successes  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher.  But  in  place  of  the  high  spirits  which 
characterized  the  comedies  of  the  earlier  periods 
we  have  a  placid  optimism,  and  a  recurrence  of 
situations  which  are  more  ingenious  than  plausi- 
ble, and  which  are  marked  externally  by  reunions 
and  reconciliations  and  internally  by  repentance 
and  forgiveness.  The  verse  is  singularly  sweet 
and  highly  poetical ;  and  the  departure  from  the 
end-stopped  line  has  now  gone  so  far  that  we  see 
clearly  the  beginnings  of  that  tendency  which 
went  to  such  an  extreme  in  some  of  Shakspere's 
successors  that  it  at  times  became  hard  to  dis- 
tinguish the  metre  at  all. 

In  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  and  Henry  VIII^ 
Shakspere  again  worked  in  partnership,  the  col- 
laborator being,  in  all  probability,  John  Fletcher. 

Nothing  that  we  know  of  Shakspere's  life  from 
external  sources  justifies  us  in  saying,  as  has 
frequently  been  said,  that  the  changes  of  mood  in 


28  INTRODUCTION. 

his  work  from  period  to  period  corresponded  to 
changes  in  the  man  Shakspere.  As  an  artist  he 
certainly  seems  to  have  viewed  life  now  in  this 
light,  now  in  that;  but  it  is  worth  noting  that  the 
period  of  his  gloomiest  plays  coincides  with  the 
period  of  his  greatest  worldly  prosperity.  It  has 
already  been  hinted,  too,  that  much  of  his  change 
of  manner  and  subject  was  dictated  by  the  vari- 
ations of  theatrical  fashion  and  the  example  of 
successful  contemporaries. 

Throughout  nearly  the  whole  of  these  marvel - 
ously  fertile  years  Shakspere  seems  to  have  stayed 
in  London;  but  from  1610  to  1612 
he  was  making  Stratford  more  and 
more  his  place  of  abode,  and  at  the 
same  time  he  was  beginning  to  write  less.  After 
1611  he  wrote  only  in  collaboration;  and  having 
spent  about  five  years  in  peaceful  retirement  in 
the  town  from  which  he  had  set  out  a  penniless 
youth,  and  to  which  he  returned  a  man  of  reputa- 
tion and  fortune,  he  died  on  April  23, 1616=  His 
only  son,  Hamnet,  having  died  in  boyhood,  of  his 
immediate  family  there  survived  him  his  wife  and 
his  two  daughters,  Susanna  and  Judith,  both  of 
whom  were  well  married.  He  lies  buried  in  the 
parish  church  of  Stratford. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  29 


II.    AS   YOU  LIKE  IT 

The  earliest  reference  to  the  comedy  of  As  You 
lAke  It  is  found  in  an  entry  in  the  Stationers'  Reg- 
ister, under  the  date  of  August  4, 1600. 
How  much  earlier  the  play  was  com- 
posed is  uncertain,  bat  no  modern  critic  of  author- 
ity places  it  earlier  than  1598.  The  reference  in 
III.  v.  81-82  to  Marlowe's  Hero  and  Leander  (pub- 
lished in  1598)  may  be  taken  as  fixing  the  earlier 
limit,  unless  we  suppose,  as  there  is  no  need  to 
do  in  this  case,  that  Shakspere  knew  the  poem  in 
manuscript.  The  evidence  from  metre,  too,  indi- 
cates 1599-1600  as  a  probable  date,  and,  with  slight 
variations,  there  is  a  general  agreement  in  this. 
The  play  thus  appears  at  the  climax  of  Shak- 
spere's  achievement  as  a  comic  dramatist,  and 
belongs,  with  Much  Ado  about  Nothing  and 
Twelfth  Night,  to  the  group  of  comedies  charac- 
terized by  a  cheerful  optimism  not  untinged  with 
a  sense  of  the  more  serious  elements  in  life,  by  a 
satisfactory  wholesomeness  in  the  heroes  and 
heroines,  by  sparkling  dialogue,  and  by  complete 
mastery  of  a  flexible  and  melodious  blank  verse. 
Although  the  play  was  entered  in  the  registers 
of  the  Stationers'  Company  in  1600,  it  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  published  till  Hem- 
source  of  inge  and  Condell  issued  the  first  col- 

the  text. 

lected  edition  of  Shakspere's  works  in 
the  Folio  of  1623.     From  this  edition  the  present 


30  INTRODUCTION 

text  is  taken,  with  a  few  modifications  drawn 
chiefly  from  the  later  Folios  and  the  emendations 
of  modern  editors. 

"Stories  which  relate  the  fate  of  a  younger 
brother  who  is  deprived  of  his  inheritance  by  the 
jealousy  of  a  senior  brother,  and  who 
therpiot.f  nevertheless  achieves  great  prosperity, 
are  as  old  as  the  time  of  Joseph."1 
To  this  class  belongs  an  anonymous  Middle 
English  poem,  found  in  several  MSS  of  Chaucer's 
Canterbury  Tales,  into  which  it  has  been  inserted 
with  the  title,  Tlie  Cokeys  Tale  of  Gamelyn.  The 
poem  is  not  by  Chaucer,  and  has  no  real  relation 
to  his  fragmentary  Cook's  Tale.  On  the  basis  of 
this  tale,  Thomas  Lodge,  an  Elizabethan  writer, 
composed  a  novel  called  Rosalynde,  Euphues* 
Golden  Legacie;  and  this  novel  in  turn  Shakspere 
dramatized  in  As  You  Like  It.  It  does  not  appear 
that  Shakspere  knew  The  Tale  of  Gamelyn. 

Lodge's  novel  is  an  admirable  example  of  two 
of  the  most  fashionable  literary  tendencies  of  the 
end  of  the  sixteenth  century:  it  is  a  pastoral  in 
form,  and  it  is  euphuistic  in  style. 

The  tradition  of  the  pastoral  had  begun  in 
classical  times  with  the  Idylls  of  Theocritus,  had 
been  carried  on  by  Vergil,  and,  in  the  period  of 
the  Kenaissance,  had  been  revived  with  many 
modifications  in  Italy.  From  Italy  it  had  spread 

'Skeat:  Introduction  to  The  Tale  of  Pamelyn, 
Oxford,  1890,  p.  1. 


AS   YOU  LIKE  IT.  31 

to  other  countries,  and  in  England  it  had  affected 
various  forms  of  literature,  especially  the  lyric, 
the  drama,  and  the  prose  romance.  jBefore  the 
date  of  Lodge's  book,  the  most  notable  products 
of  this  impulse  had  been  Edmund  Spenser's  Shep- 
heardes  Calender  and  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  Arcadia. 

Originally,  the  pastoral  had  represented  the 
life  of  real  shepherds ;  but  in  the  course  of  time  it 
had  come  to  be  an  almost  purely  artificial  form, 
in  which  the  scene  was  laid  in  an  imaginary 
Arcadia,  where  the  supposed  shepherds  wandered 
through  woods  and  fields,  making  love,  composing 
songs,  and  playing  on  oaten  pipes.  The  introduc- 
tion of  courtiers  living  a  rustic  life,  and  the 
mingling  of  foresters  and  people  of  other  rural 
occupations  with  shepherds  proper,  were  already 
familiar  before  they  appeared  in  Lodge's  novel. 

The  style  of  Rosalynde  is  called  euphuistic 
because  it  follows  the  fashion  set  in  1579  by  John 
Lyly  in  his  romance  of  Euplmes.  Its  character- 
istic qualities  are  excessive  alliteration  and 
antithesis,  and  the  abundant  use  of  classical 
illustrations  and  of  similes  drawn  from  mythical 
natural  history.  The  following  passage  illus- 
trates Lodge's  manner  of  describing  a  typical 
pastoral  situation  in  euphuistic  language: 

The  ground  where  they  sat  was  diapered  with 
Flora's  riches,  as  if  she  meant  to  wrap  Tellus  in  the 
glory  of  her  vestments  ....  Fast  by  (to  make  the  place 
more  gorgeous)  was  there  a  fount  so  crystalline  and 


32  INTRODUCTION. 

clear,  that  it  seemed  Diana  with  her  Dryads  and  Hama 
dryads  had  that  spring  as  the  secret  of  all  their  bath- 
ings. In  this  glorious  arbour  sat  these  two  shepherds 
(seeing  their  sheep  feed)  playing  on  their  pipes  many 
pleasant  tunes,  and  from  music  and  melody  falling  into 
much  amorous  chat.  Drawing  more  nigh  we  might 
descry  the  countenance  of  the  one  to  be  full  of  sorrow, 
his  face  to  be  the  very  portraiture  of  discontent,  and  his 
eyes  full  of  woes,  that  living  he  seemed  to  die. 

In  turning  Rosalynde  into  a  play,  Shakspere 
dropped  entirely  the  euphuism,  but  retained  many 
pastoral  characteristics.  In  retaining  these,  he 
was  following  not  only  his  source,  but  the  exam- 
ple of  other  dramatists  who  had  scored  successes 
with  pastorals  on  the  stage.  The  more  conven- 
tional pastoral  features  to  be  detected  in  As  You 
Like  It  are  these:  the  shepherds  and  foresters, 
both  those  who  are  actual  rustics  and  those  who 
are  courtiers  living  in  retirement;  the  love-sick 
shepherd  and  obdurate  shepherdess,  of  whom 
Phebe  and  Sylvius  are  thoroughly  typical ;  the  girl 
in  the  dress  of  a  page ;  the  hanging  or  carving  of 
verses  on  trees;  the  hunting  scene  and  song;  the 
figure  of  Hymen ,  and  the  suggested  landscape  of 
woodland,  sheep-cote,  and  pasture. 

A  further  contemporary  influence  on  Shak- 
spere's  treatment  of  the  story  may  be  found  in  a 
number  of  plays  dealing  with  the  life  and  adven- 
tures of  Robin  Hood.1  A  forest  life,  such  as  that 

1  Such  are  The  Downfall  of  Robert,  Earl  of  Hunt* 
ington,  by  Anthony  Munday,  and  The  Death  of  Robert 


AS   YOU  LIKE  IT.  33 

of  the  banished  Duke  (which  is  mentioned  but 
not  described  by  Lodge),  and  even  his  cheerful 
attitude  towards  adversity,  had  been  features  of 
such  plays.  Thus  to  the  spectators  who  first  saw 
As  You  Like  It  acted,  the  comedy  must  have 
appeared  not  merely  as  the  dramatization  of  a 
popular  novel,  bat  also  as  a  particularly  charming 
combination  of  types  of  drama  of  which  they 
had  already  shown  their  appreciation. 

But  in  transforming  Rosalynde  into  As  You 
Like  It,  Shakspere  left  out  much  besides  the 
euphuism,  and  added  much  besides  the  Robin 
Hood  element.  A  complete  understanding  of  the 
nature  and  extent  of  his  omissions  and  additions' 
can  be  got  only  by  a  close  comparison  of  the  play 
and  the  novel,  scene  by  scene.  But  something  of 
his  method  may  be  gathered  from  the  following 
summary  of  the  most  significant  changes : 

1.  The  length  of  time  covered  by  the  action  is 
much  shorter  in  the  play  than  in  the  novel. 
Lodge  begins  with  the  death-bed  of  Sir  John  of 
Bourdeaux  (=  Sir  Roland  de  Boys),  while  Shak- 
spere summarizes  in  Orlando's  opening  speech 
all  the  story  previous  to  the  quarrel  between  Oliver 
and  Orlando.  Lodge  indicates  long  intervals 
between  the  quarrel  and  the  wrestling,  and 
between  the  wrestling  and  Orlando's  setting  out, 

Earl  of  Huntington,  by  Anthony  Munday  and  Henry 
Chettle,  reprinted  in  Hazlitt's  edition  of  Dodsley's  Old 
English  Plays,  Vol.  VIII.  London,  1874. 
2 


34  INTRODUCTION. 

while  Shakspere  makes  them  follow  in  rapid  suc- 
cession. Besides  increasing  the  rapidity  of  the 
action,  this  change  avoids  having  Orlando  hear  of 
Eosalind's  banishment,  and  yet  stay  at  home 
in  unloverlike  fashion.  Compression  of  the  ear- 
lier events  is  again  aided  by  narrating  instead 
of  representing  the  wrestling  of  the  old  man's 
sons. 

2.  Shakspere  omits  a  whole  series  of  tumultuous 
incidents  occurring  after  Eosader's  (=  Orlando's) 
victory,   when,   with  a  band  of  companions,  he 
breaks  into   Saladyne's  (=  Oliver's)    castle,    and 
banquets  at  his  brother's  expense.      A  peace  is 
patched  up  between  the  brothers  by  old  Adam, 
but  later  Saladyne  takes   Eosader  asleep,   binds 
him  to  a  post,  and  denies  him  food  and  drink. 
Adam  releases  him,  and  together  they  drive  out 
Saladyne  and  his  friends,  who  return  with  the 
sheriff  and  twenty-five  men.      Eosader  and  Adam 
break  through  and  escape  to  the  Forest  of  Arden. 
The  omission  of  all  this  rowdyism  increases  the 
refinement  of  Shakspere's  Orlando,  and  makes  the 
love  plot  more  prominent. 

3.  In  Lodge,  Torismond   (  =  Duke  Frederick) 
throws  Saladyne  into  prison,  professedly  for  the 
wrongs  he  had  done  to  Eosader  and  because  by 
his  means  the  king  had  lost  "a  most  brave  and 
resolute  chevalier."     Saladyne's    meditations    in 
prison  bring  about  his  change  of  heart.      Later 
he  is  banished,  that  Torismond    may  seize   his 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT,  35 

estates.  Shakspere  saves  time  by  banishing  Oliver 
at  once,  and  makes  his  conversion  the  result  of 
Orlando's  magnanimity. 

4.  In  the  novel,  a  band  of  rascals  attempt  to 
kidnap  Alinda.     Eosader  attempts  a  rescue,  but  is 
being  worsted  when  Saladyne  comes  to  his  assist- 
ance and  drives  off  the  assailants.      Eosador  is 
wounded  in  the  scuffle.     This  episode  brings  about 
the  meeting  of  Saladyne  and  Alinda,  which  in  the 
play  is  contrived  by  making  Oliver  bring  news  of 
Orlando's   wound  from  the  lioness,   an   incident 
which  Shakspere  invented.     The  wooing  of  Alinda 
is  told  in  detail  in  the  novel ;  in  the  play  it  is  only 
reported.     Condensation  is  here  again  the  main 
object  of  the  changes. 

5.  Immediately  after  the  weddings  in  Lodge's 
book,    Fernandyne     (  =  Jaques    de    Boys)  brings 
news  that  the  twelve  peers  of  France  are  up  in 
arms  on  behalf  of  Gerismond  (  =  Duke  Senior). 
The  Duke,  Saladyne,  and    Eosader   take  horses 
and  armor,  arid  arrive  at  the  scene  of  conflict  in 
time  to  turn  the  tide  of  battle.      Torismond  is 
overthrown  and  slain.     Shakspere's  milder  device 
of  the  conversion  of  Frederick,  however  uncon- 
fincing,  suits  better  the  mood  of  reconciliation 
and  forgiveness  which  dominates  the  play. 

6.  The  novel  contains  these  somewhat  sordid 
elements,  which  are  not  in  the  play:    (a)  At  the 
outset  Eosalynde  attempts  to  control  her  love  by 
consideration   of    Eosader's   poverty;     (b)    Sala^ 


36  INTRODUCTION 

dyne's  action  towards  Rosader  is  due  to  covetous 
ness  of  the  larger  share  which  the  younger  had 
received  from  his  father,  while  in  the  play  Orlando 
gets  only  a  small  legacy  and  is  envied  by  his 
brother  for  his  popular  qualities;  (c)  Rosader 
hesitates  to  save  his  brother  from  the  lioness,  not 
from  a  natural  impulse  towards  revenge,  but  from  a 
calculation  that  Saladyne's  fortune  might  possibly 
aid  him  in  winning  Rosalynde;  (d)  at  the  close, 
Saladyne  is  "in  a  dumpe"  at  his  brother's  lucky 
match  with  the  King's  (  =  Duke's)  daughter,  until 
he  finds  out  the  rank  of  Alinda. 

7.  The  characters  throughout  are  much  more 
vividly  realized  in  the  play,  and  many  minor 
changes  are  made,  some  of  which  are  remarked 
in  the  notes.  Thus,  in  Lodge,  Rosalynde  is 
comparatively  lacking  in  humor,  overshadows 
Alinda  (  =  Celia)  less  than  in  the  play,  and  is  less 
severe  on  Phoebe.  Rosader,  after  the  wrestling, 
is  sufficiently  self-controlled  to  compose  a  sonnet 
to  Rosalynde,  while  in  the  play  he  is  dumb  with 
embarrassment;  and  in  the  scene  with  Adam  in 
the  forest  it  is  he  who  in  despair  is  comforted  by 
Adam,  instead  of  the  reverse.  In  the  novel, 
Phoebe  refuses  Montanus  (  =  Silvius)  because  she 
has  a  theoretical  scorn  of  love,  falls  ill  from 
her  passion  for  Ganymede,  and  when  the  seeming 
page  visits  her,  confesses  the  cause  of  her  sick- 
ness. The  self-abnegation  of  Montanus  is  exag- 
gerated by  making  him  willing  to  have  Ganymede 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  37 

marry  Phoebe  to  save  her  life,  and  by  making  him 
aware  of  the  tenor  of  the  letter  he  carries  to  Gany- 
mede from  his  mistress.  He  is  also  endowed  with 
the  conventional  pastoral  accomplishments  of  com- 
posing sonnets  and  the  like,  and  so  removed  farther 
than  in  Shakspere  from  the  natural  shepherd. 

8.  The  characters  of  Jaques,  Touchstone, 
Audrey,  William,  Dennis,  Le  Beau,  Amiens,  the 
first  Lord,  and  Sir  Oliver  Martext,  are  all  added 
by  Shakspere,  and  also,  of  course,  the  parts  of 
the  action  in  which  they  are  prominent.  It  is  to 
6e  noticed  that,  with  the  exception  of  the  farce 
of  Touchstone  and  Audrey,  the  plot  itself  is  not 
affected  by  these  additions.  Much,  however,  of 
the  distinctive  atmosphere  of  the  play,  much  of  its 
philosophy,  its  humor,  its  lyric  beauty,  and  its 
suggested  landscape,  result  from  the  utterances 
of  these  invented  characters. 

More  than  half  of  the  present  play  is  written  in 

prose,  and  it  is  important  to  observe  the  principles 

on   which    Shakspere  here    bases    his 

Metre. 

choice  01  prose  or  verse  as  a  medium  of 
expression.  As  a  rule,  verse  is  used  by  men  of 
high  rank,  such  as  the  dukes  and  lords;  prose 
by  women,  servants,  and  fools.  Verse  is  used  in 
situations  where  the  feeling  is  elevated  or  intense, 
in  highly  imaginative  or  sententious  passages,  in 
conventional  scenes  such  as  the  pastoral  dialogues 
of  Phebe  and  Silvius ;  prose  in  farce,  repartee,  and 
commonplace  conversation. 


38  INTRODUCTION. 

The  verse  used,  except  in  the  songs,  is  the 
blank  verse  which  for  a  dozen  years  had  been  the 
standard  metre  of  the  Elizabethan  drama.  The 
normal  type  has  five  iambic  feet,  that  is,  ten  syl- 
lables with  the  stress  falling  on  the  even  syllables. 
From  this  regular  form,  however,  Shakspere 
deviates  with  great  freedom,  the  commonest 
variations  being  the  following : 

1.  The  addition  of  an  extra  syllable,  usually 
before  a  pause,  and  so  most  frequently,  though 
not  always,  at  the  end  of  a  line;  e.g. : 

Which  when  ]  it  bites  |  and  blows  |  upon  |  my  bo  |  dy, 

II.  i.  8. 
That  can  |  translate  |  the  stub  I  bornness  |  of  for  |  tune, 

II.  i.  19. 
And  faints  |  for  sue  |  cour.  \  Fair  sir,  |  I  pi  [  ty  her  |  , 

II.  iv.  77. 

2.  Frequently  what  seems  an  extra  syllable  is 
to  be  slurred  in  reading;  e.g. : 

I  would  |  thou  hadst  told  |  me  of  1  ano  |  ther  fa  |  ther, 
I.  ii.  250, 

where  "thou  hadst"  is  to  be  pronounced 
"thou'dst." 

Than  a  |  ny  of  |  her  lin  \  eaments  \  can  show  |  her,    III. 
v.  56, 

where  "lineaments"  is  trisyllabic.  In  some  lines 
it  is  doubtful  whether  a  syllable  is  to  be  slurred 
or  read  as  a  light  extra  syllable;  e.g. : 

Jealous  |  in  ho  |  nour,  sud  \  den,  and  quick  |  in  quar  i 
rel,  II.  vii.  151, 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  39 

where,  with  the  punctuation  in  the  text,  the 
second  syllable  of  <k  sudd  en"  is  additional,  buty 
without  the  comma,  it  is  to  be  read  "sudd'- 
nand." 

3.  Sometimes  an  emphatic  syllable  stands  alone 
as  a  foot,  the  unaccented  syllable  being  omitted; 
e.g.: 

Peace,  \  I  say.  |  Good  e  |  ven  to  |  you,  friend,  [  II.  iv.  71. 
Bring  |  us  to  |  this  sight,  |  and  you  |  shall  say,  |  III.  iv. 
60. 

4.  Short  lines,  lacking  one  or  more  feet,  occur; 
e.g.: 

Thou  hast  not  loved,  II.  iv.  36. 
Why,  who  cries  out  on  pride,  II.  vii.  70. 

5.  Long  lines  of  six  feet  are  not  uncommon; 
e.g. : 

I  see  |  no  more  |  in  you  |  than  in  |  the  or  |  dinary,  |  III. 

v.  42. 
You  fool  |  ish  shep  |  herd,  where  |  fore  do  |  you  fol  | 

low  her,  |  III.  v.  49. 

Usually  in  such  lines  some  words  bearing  the 
metrical  accent  are  quite  unemphatic  as  read,  and 
many  Alexandrines,  as  iambic  hexameters  are 
called,  may  be  read  so  as  to  give  the  impression 
of  normal  length ;  e.g.: 

Of  smooth  civility.     Yet  am  I  inland  bred,  II.  vii.  96. 
In  bitterness.     The  common  executioner,  III.  v.  3. 

6.  Frequently,   especially  in   the  first  foot,  a 
trochee  is  substituted  for  an  iambus,    i.6o,   the 


40  INTRODUCTION. 

accent  falls  on  the  odd  instead  of  on  the  even 

syllable;  e.g.: 

t 
Sweet  are  |  the  uses  of  adversity,  II.  1.  12. 

» 

Such  Ethiop  words,  |  blacker  |  in  their  effect,  IV,   iii. 
36. 

7.  It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  some 
words  have  been  altered  in  pronunciation  since 
Shakspere's  time.     Thus  the  accent  is  changed  in 
exile,  II.  i.  1,  exiled,  V.  iv.  175,  confines,  II.  i.  24, 
antique,   II.   iii.    57,    quintessence,    III.   ii.   142, 
aspect,  IV.  iii.   54,  compact,  V.   iv.    5;     though 
Shakspere  has  elsewhere,  in  many  of  these  words, 
the  modern  accentuation  also.    Again,  condit-i-on, 

I.  ii.  284,  inter  mis  s-i-on,  II.  vii.  32,  olservat-i-on, 

II.  vii.  41,  reputat-i-on,  II.  vii.  152,  act-i-on,  IV. 
iii.  10,  pat-i-ence,  I.  iii.  79,  all  have  the  termina- 
tion dissyllabic. 

8.  Occasional  rhymes  occur.     These  are  found 
chiefly  at  the  end  of  scenes  or  of  speeches  of  some 
length,  or  in  utterances  more  or  less  proverbial 
in  character;  e.g.:  I.  ii.,  I.  iii.,  II.  iii.,   II.  iv., 
II.  vii.,  III.  iv.,  V.  iv. ,  all  end  in  rhyming  coup- 
lets, and  II.  iii.  67-68,  III.  v.  78-79,  V.  iv.  186-189, 
202-203,  are  rhyming  lines  giving  point   to  the 
close  of  speeches. 

Although  differences  between  the  language  of 
Shakspere  and  that  of  our  own  day  are  obvious 
to  the  most  casual  reader,  there  is  a  risk  that 
the  student  may  underestimate  the  extent  of  these 


A3   YOU  LIKE  IT.  41 

differences,  and,  assuming  that  similarity  of  form 
implies  identity  of  meaning,  miss  the  true  inter- 
pretation.      The   most   important  in- 

Language. 

stances  01  change  ot  meaning  are 
explained  in  the  notes;  but  a  clearer  view  of 
the  nature  and  extent  of  the  contrast  between  the 
language  of  As  You  Like  It  and  modern  English 
will  be  gained  by  a  classification  of  the  most  fre- 
quent features  of  this  contrast.  Some  of  the 
Shaksperean  usages  are  merely  results  of  the 
carelessness  and  freedom  which  the  more  elastic 
standards  of  the  Elizabethan  time  permitted; 
others  are  forms  of  expression  at  that  time  quite 
accurate,  but  now  become  obsolete. 

1.  NOUNS.      The   sign  of  the  possessive    sin- 
gular is  sometimes  omitted  in  dissyllables  which 
already  contain  one  or  more  sibilants,  or  where 
the  following  word  begins  with  "s" ;  e.g. :  "fashion 
sake,"  III.  ii.  268;  "sentence  end,"  III.  ii.  139. 
Cf.  our  modern  usages,  "justice'  sake,"  etc. 

2.  ADJECTIVES.     Double   comparatives  occur- 
e.g.:  "more  sounder,"  III.  ii.  65;  "more  worth- 
ier," III.  iii.  63. 

3.  PRONOUNS,      (a)  The    nominative  is  often 
used    for    the    objective;     e.g.:    "What    he    is, 
indeed,    more   suits   you   to   conceive  than   /  to 
speak    of,"  I.    ii.   286-87;    "who    doth   he  trofc 
withal?"   III.  ii.  326;  "who  you  saw,"  III.  iv. 
KL. 

(b)  Confusion    between   the  personal   and  the 


42  INTRODUCTION. 

reflexive  forms  is  common;  e.g.:   "1  confess  me 
much  guilty,"  I.  ii.  200;  ''Quit  Thee,"  III.  i.  11. 

(c)  The  ethical  dative  is  more  frequent  than  in 
modern  speech;    e.g.:  "I'll  rhyme  you  so  eight 
years  together,"  III.  ii.  96. 

(d)  The  relative  is  often  omitted  after  " there 
is,"  "there  are,"  etc.,  as  it  frequently  is  in  mod- 
ern colloquial  English ;  e.g. :  "There  was  not  any 
man  A  died,"  IV.  i.  101;    "There's  a  girl  A  goes 
before  the  priest,"  IV.  i.  147. 

4.  VESBS.     (a)  A  singular  verb  is  often  found 
with  two  subjects  or  with  a  plural  subject,  espe- 
cially if  the  subject  is  a  relative  pronoun  and  so 
has  no  plural  inflection;  e.g.:  "  'Tis  such  fools  as 
you  that  makes  the  world  full  of  ill-favour'd  chil- 
dren," III.  v.  52-53;  "Our  master  and  mistress 
seeks  you,"  V.  i.  66;    "Thou  and  I  am  one,"  I. 
iii.  98. 

(b)  The  "n"  is  frequently  dropped  from  the 
ending   of  the  past  participle  of   strong  verbs; 
e.g.:  "spoke"  for  "spoken,"  L  i.  92;   "broke" 
for  "broken,"  II.  iv.  40. 

(c)  Verbs  of  motion  are  at  times  omitted;  e.g.: 
"I  can  tell  who  should  A  down,"  I.  ii.  234;   "It 
will  A  out  at  the  casement,"  IV.  i.  172. 

5.  ADVERBS.      (a)  Double  negatives   are  used 
with  a  merely  intensive   force;   e.g.:  "And  yet 
give    no   thousand   crowns    neither,"    I.    i.    95; 
"Nor  shalt  not,"  II.  vii.   89;    "Nor  .  .  .  there 
is  no  force,"  III.  v.  26;    "Nor  doth  not  hear/' 


AS   YOU  LIKE  JLJL.  43 

9.  iii.   118.     Cf.  also  V.  iv.  92;  epilogue,!.  £$ 
etc. 

(b)  An  adverb  is  sometimes  used  where  good 
modern  usage  requires  an  adjective;  e.g. ;  "Looks 
he  as  freshly,"  III.  ii.  240;  "Those  that  she 
.makes  honest  she  makes  very  ill-favour edty,"  for 
"ill-favoured,"  I.  ii.  44.  For  "He  looks  suc- 
cessfully," see  note  on  I.  ii.  166. 

6,  PREPOSITIONS,     (a)  These  are  at  times  un 
necessarily  repeated;  e.g.:  "Of  what  kind  should 
this   cock  come  of?"  II.  vii.  90;   "Wherein  we 
play  iw,"  II.  vii.  139. 

(b)  Prepositions  are  sometimes  omitted;  e.g.. 
"Speak  A  sad  brow,"  III.  ii.  221-22;  "I  answei 
A  right  painted  cloth,"  III.  ii.  286. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONAE. 

DUKE,  living  in  banishment. 

FREDERICK,  his  brother,  and  usurper  of  his  dominions. 

AMIENS,  | 

J AGUES  \^ords  attending  on  the  banished  Duke. 

LE  BEAU,  a  courtier  attending  upon  Frederick. 

CHARLES,  wrestler  to  Frederick. 

OLIVER,      ) 

JAQUES,      >•  sons  of  Sir  Roland  de  Boys. 

ORLANDO,  ) 

ADAM,    ) 

DENNIS,  f servants  to  OUver- 

TOUCHSTONE,  a  clown. 

SIR  OLIVER  MARTEXT,  a  vicar. 

CORIN, 

SILVIUS, 

WILLIAM,  a  country  fellow,  in  love  with  Audrey. 

A  person  representing  Hymen. 

ROSALIND,  daughter  to  the  banished  Duke. 
CELIA,  daughter  to  Frederick. 
PHEBE,  a  shepherdess. 
AUDREY,  a  country  w  ._,.„. 

Lords,  pages,  and  attendants,  etc. 

SCENE:    Oliver's  house;  Duke  Frederick's  court, 
and  the  Forest  of  Arden. 


tt- 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 
ACT   FIRST. 

SCEKE     I. 

Orchard  of  Oliver's  house. 
Enter  Orlando  and  Adam. 

Orl.  As  I  remember,  Adam,  it  was  upon  this 
fashion :  bequeathed  me  by  will  but  poor  a 
thousand  crowns,  and,  as  thou  sayest, 
charged  my  brother,  on  his  blessing,  to  breed 

5  me  well;  and  there  begins  my  sadness.  My 
brother  Jaques  he  keeps  at  school,  and  report 
speaks  goldenly  of  his  profit.  For  my  part, 
he  keeps  me  rustically  at  home,  or,  to  speak 
more  properly,  stays  me  here  at  home  unkept ; 

to  for  call  you  that  keeping  for  a  gentleman  of 
my  birth,  that  differs  not  from  the  stalling  of 
an  ox?  His  horses  are  bred  better;  for, 
besides  that  they  are  fair  with  their  feeding, 
they  are  taught  their  manage,  and  to  that 

*fr  end  riders  dearly  hired ;  but  I,  his  brother, 
gain  nothing  under  him  but  growth ;  for  the 
which  his  animals  on  his  dunghills  are  as 

47 


48  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.        [ACT  I.  So.  *. 

much  bound  to  him  as  I.  Besides  this 
nothing  that  he  so  plentifully  gives  me,  the 
something  that  nature  gave  me  his  counte-so 
nance  seems  to  take  from  me.  He  lets  me 
feed  with  his  hinds,  bars  me  the  place  of  a 
brother,  and,  as  much  as  in  him  lies,  mines 
my  gentility  with  my  education.  This  is  it, 
Adam,  that  grieves  me;  and  the  spirit  of  my 25 
father,  which  I  think  is  within  me,  begins  to 
mutiny  against  this  servitude.  I  will  no  longer 
endure  it,  though  yet  I  know  no  wise  remedy 
how  to  avoid  it. 

Adam.  Yonder  comes  my  master,  your  brother.  30 

Orl.  Go  apart,  Adam,  and  thou  shalt  hear  how  he 
will  shake  me  up. 

Enter  Oliver. 

Oli.  Now,  sir!  what  make  you  here? 

Orl.  Nothing.  I  am  not  taught  to  make  any 
thing.  35 

Oli.    What  mar  you  then,  sir? 

Orl.  Marry,  sir,  I  am  helping  you  to  mar  that 
which  God  made,  a  poor  unworthy  brother  of 
yours,  with  idleness. 

Oli.  Marry,    sir,    be   better    employed,    and    be4o 
naught  awhile. 

Orl.  Shall  I  keep  your  hogs  and  eat  husks  with 
them?  What  prodigal  portion  have  I  spent, 
that  I  should  come  to  such  penury? 

Oli.  Know  you  where  you  are,  sir?  45 

Orl.  0,  sir,  very  well;  here  in  your  orchard. 


ACT  I.  Sc.  i.J       AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  49 

Oil.  Know  you  before  whom,  sir? 

Orl.  Ay,  better  than  him  I  am  before  knows  me. 

I  know  you  are  my  eldest  brother;  and,  in 

BO         the  gentle  condition  of  blood,  you  should  so 

know  me.     The  courtesy  of  nations  allows 

you  my  better,  in  that  you  are  the  first-born ; 

but  the  same  tradition  takes  not  away  my 

blood,  were  there  twenty  brothers  betwixt  us. 

65         I  have  as  much  of  my  father  in  me  as  you; 

albeit,  I  confess,  your  coming  before  me  is 

nearer  to  his  reverence. 

Oh.  What,  boy! 

Orl.  Come,  come,  elder  brother,  you  are  too 
eo  young  in  this. 

Oil.  Wilt  thou  lay  hands  on  me,  villain? 

Orl.  I  am  no  villain ;  I  am  the  youngest  son  of 
Sir  Eoland  de  Boys ;  he  was  my  father,  and 
he  is  thrice  a  villain  that  says  such  a  fathei 
65  begot  villains.  Wert  thou  not  my  brother,  ] 
would  not  take  this  hand  from  thy  throat  till 
this  other  had  pulled  out  thy  tongue  for 
saying  so.  Thou  hast  railed  on  thyself. 

Adam.  Sweet  masters,  be  patient;  for  your 
TO  father's  remembrance,  be  at  accord. 

OH.  Let  me  go,  I  say. 

Orl.  I  will  not,  till  I  please;  you  shall  hear  me. 

My  father  charged  you  in  his  will  to  give  me 

good  education.     You  have  trained  me  like  a 

TO         peasant,  obscuring  and  hiding  from  me  all 

gentleman-like  qualities.     The  spirit  of  my 


50  AS  YOU   LIKE  IT.       [ACT  1.  So.  t 

father  grows  strong  in  me,  and  I  will  no 
longer  endure  it;  therefore  allow  me  such 
exercises  as  may  become  a  gentleman,  or  give 
me  the  poor  allottery  my  father  left  me  by  so 
testament.  With  that  I  will  go  buy  my 
fortunes. 

Oil.  And  what  wilt  thou  do?  Beg,  when  that  is 
spent?     Well,    sir,  get   you   in.     I  will  not 
long  be  troubled  with  you;  you  shall  have 85 
some  part  of  your  will.    I  pray  you,  leave  me. 

Orl.  I  will  no  further  offend  you  than  becomes 
me  for  my  good. 

Oli.  Get  you  with  him,  you  old  dog. 

Adam.  Is  "old  dog"  my  reward?     Most  true,  I9o 
have  lost  my  teeth  in  your  service.     God  be 
with  my  old  master!  He  would  not  have  spoke 
such  a  word. 

[Exeunt  Orlando  and  Adam. 

Oli.  Is  it  even  so?    Begin  you  to  grow  upon  me?  I 
will  physic  your  rankness,  and  yet  give  no» 
thousand  crowns  neither.     Holla,  Dennis! 

Enter  Dennis. 

Den.  Calls  your  worship? 

Oli.  Was  not  Charles,  the  Duke's  wrestler,  here 

to  speak  with  me? 
Den.  So  please  you,  he  is  here  at  the  door  andioc 

importunes  access  to  you. 
Oil.  Call  him  in.     [Exit  Dennis.}     'Twill  be  a 

good  way ;  and  to-morrow  the  wrestling  is 


AOTL  So.  i]        AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  51 

Enter  Charles. 

Oka.  Good  morrow  to  your  worship. 
M»  Oli.  Good  Monsieur  Charles,  what's  the  new  news 

at  the  new  court? 

Cha.  There's    no    news    at    the    court,  sir,  but 
the  old  news :  that  is,  the  old  Duke  is  ban- 
ished by  his  younger  brother  the  new  Duke; 
110         and  three  or  four  loving  lords  have  put  them- 
selves into  voluntary  exile  with  him,  whose 
lands  and  revenues  enrich  the    new   Duke; 
therefore  he  gives  them  good  leave  to  wander. 
Oli.  Can  you  tell  if  Eosalind,  the  Duke's  daugh- 
iiff         ter,  be  banished  with  her  father? 

Cha.  0,  no;  for  the  Duke's  daughter,  her  cousin, 
so  loves  her,  being  ever  from  their  cradles 
bred  together,  that  she  would  have  followed 
her  exile,  or  have  died  to  stay  behind  her. 
iao         She  is  at  the  court,  and  no  less  beloved  of  her 
uncle  than  his  own  daughter;  and  never  two 
ladies  loved  as  they  do. 
Oli.  Where  will  the  old  Duke  live? 
Cha.  They  say  he  is  already  in  the  forest  of 
las         Arden,  and  a  many  merry  men  with  him; 
and  there  they  live  like  the  old  Robin  Hood 
of  England.     They  say  many  young  gentle- 
men flock  to  him  every  day,  and  fleet  the  time 
carelessly,  as  they  did  in  the  golden  world, 
iso  OU.  What,  you  wrestle  to-morrow  before  the  new 

Duke? 
Cha.  Marry,  do  I,  sir;  and  I  came  to  acquaint 


**  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.       [ACT  I.  So.  i 

you  with  a  matter.  I  am  given,  sir,  secretly 
to  understand  that  your  younger  brother. 
Orlando,  hath  a  disposition  to  come  in  dis-  isa 
guised  against  me  to  try  a  fall.  To-morrow, 
sir,  I  wrestle  for  my  credit;  and  he  that 
escapes  me  without  some  broken  limb  shall 
acquit  him  well.  Your  brother  is  but  young 
and  tender;  and,  for  your  love,  I  would  bei4e 
loath  to  foil  him,  as  I  must,  for  my  own 
honour,  if  he  come  in;  therefore,  out  of  my 
love  to  you,  I  came  hither  to  acquaint  you 
Yithal,  that  either  you  might  stay  him  from 
his  intendment,  or  brook  such  disgrace  well  145 
as  he  shall  run  into,  in  that  it  is  a  thing  of 
his  own  search,  and  altogether  against  my 
will. 

H\i    Charles,  I  thank  thee  for  thy  love  to  me, 
which   thou  shalt  find    I  will   most  kindly  iso 
requite.     I  had  myself  notice  of  my  brother's 
purpose  herein,  and  have  by  underhand  means 
laboured  to  dissuade  him  from  it,  but  he  is 
resolute.     I'll  tell  thee,    Charles,  it  is  the 
stubbornest  young  fellow  of  France ;  full  of  i» 
ambition,  an  envious  emulator  of  every  man's 
good  parts,  a  secret  and  villanous  contriver 
against  me  his  natural  brother;  therefore  use 
thy  discretion.    I  had  as  lief  thou  didst  break 
his  neck  as  his  finger.     And  thou  wert  best  ie« 
look   to't;   for  if  thou  dost  him  any  slight 
disgrace,  or  if  he  do  not  mightily  grace  him- 


ACT  I.  Sc.  i.]        AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  53 

self  on  thee,  he  will  practise  against  thee  by 
poison,    entrap    thee    by   some    treacherous 

165  device,  and  never  leave  thee  till  he  hath  ta'en 
thy  life  by  some  indirect  means  or  other ;  for, 
I  assure  thee,  and  almost  with  tears  I  speak 
it,  there  is  not  one  so  young  and  so  villanous 
this  day  living.  I  speak  but  brotherly  of 

170  him ;  but  should  I  anatomize  him  to  thee  as 
he  is,  I  must  blush  and  weep,  and  thou  must 
look  pale  and  wonder. 

Cha.  I  am  heartily  glad  I  came  hither  to  you.     If 
he  come  to-morrow,  I'll  give  him  his  pay- 

175  ment.  If  ever  he  go  alone  again,  I'll  never 
wrestle  for  prize  more.  And  so,  God  keep 
your  worship ! 

Oli.  Farewell,  good  Charles.  [Exit  diaries. 

Now  will  I  stir  this  gamester.     I  hope  I  shall 

180  see  an  end  of  him ;  for  my  soul,  yet  I  know 
not  why,  hates  nothing  more  than  he.  Yet 
he's  gentle;  never  schooled,  and  yet  learned; 
full  of  noble  device;  of  all  sorts  enchantingly 
beloved ;  and  indeed  so  much  in  the  heart  of 

t85  the  world,  and  especially  of  my  own  people, 
who  best  know  him,  that  I  am  altogethe? 
misprised.  But  it  shall  not  be  so  long;  thia 
wrestler  shall  clear  all.  Nothing  remains  but 
that  I  kindle  the  boy  thither,  which  now  I'll 

iw         go  about.  [Exit 


54  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.     [ACT  I.  So.  ii 


II. 


Lawn  before  the  Duke's  palace. 
Enter  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Cel.  I   pray   thee,    Rosalind,    sweet   my   coz,   be 
merry. 

Eos.  Dear  Celia,  1  show  more  mirth  than  I  am 
mistress  of;  and  would  you  yet  I  were  mer- 
rier?    Unless  you  could  teach  me  to  forget  as 
banished  father,  you  must  not  learn  me  how 
to  remember  any  extraordinary  pleasure. 

Cel.  Herein  I  see  thou  lovest  me  not  with  the  full 
weight  that  I  love  thee.  If  my  uncle,  thy 
banished  father,  had  banished  thy  uncle,  the  10 
Duke  my  father,  so  thou  hadst  been  still 
with  me,  I  could  have  taught  my  love  to  take 
thy  father  for  mine.  So  wouldst  thou,  if  the 
truth  of  thy  love  to  me  were  so  righteously 
tempered  as  mine  is  to  thee.  is 

Ros.  Well,   I   will   forget   the   condition   of  my 
estate,  to  rejoice  in  yours. 

Cel.  You  know  my  father  hath  no  child  but  I, 
nor  none  is  like  to  have  :  and,  truly,  when  he 
dies,  thou  shalt  be  his  heir;  for  what  he  hatha* 
taken  away  from  thy  father  perforce,  I  will 
render  thee  again  in  affection.  By  mine 
honour,  I  will;  and  when  I  break  that  oath. 


ACT  I.  So.  ii.]      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  55 

let  me  turn  monster.     Therefore,  my  sweet 
as         Rose,  my  dear  Eose,  be  merry. 
Ros.  From  henceforth   I   will,    coz,    and   devise 
sports.     Let   me   see;    what   think    you    of 
falling  in  love? 

Gel.  Marry,  I  prithee,  do,  to  make  sport  withal. 

80         Bat  love  no  man  in  good  earnest,  nor  no 

further  in  sport  neither  than  with  safety  of  a 

pure  blush  thou  mayst  in  honour  come  off 

again. 

Ros.  What  shall  bo  our  sport,  then? 
as  Cel.  Let  us  sit   and   mock   the   good  housewife 
Fortune  from  her  wheel,  that  her  gifts  may 
henceforth  be  bestowed  equally. 
Ros.  I  would  we  could  do  so;  for  her  benefits  are 
mightily  misplaced,  and  the  bountiful  blind 
40         woman  doth  most  mistake   in   her  gifts  to 

women. 

Cel.  'Tis  true;  for  those  that  she  makes  fair  she 
scarce  makes  honest,  and  those  that  she 
makes  honest  she  makes  very  ill-favouredly. 
<5  Ros.  Nay,  now  thou  goest  from  Fortune's  office 
to  Nature's.  Fortune  reigns  in  gifts  of  the 
world,  not  in  the  lineaments  of  Nature. 

Enter  Touchstone. 

Cel.  No?  When  Nature  hath  made  a  fair  creature, 

may  she  not  by  Fortune  fall  into  the  fire? 

so         Though  Nature  hath  given  us  wit  to  flout  at 

Fortune,  hath  not  Fortune  sent  in  this  fool 

to  cut  off  the  argument? 


56  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.     [ACT  I.  So.  ii 

Ros.  Indeed,  there  is  Fortune  too  hard  for 
Nature,  when  Fortune  makes  Nature's  natu- 
ral the  cutter-off  of  Nature's  wit.  sa 

CeL  Peradventure  this  is  not  Fortune's  work 
neither,  hut  Nature's;  who,  perceiving  our 
natural  wits  too  dull  to  reason  of  such 
goddesses,  hath  sent  this  natural  for  our 
whetstone;  for  always  the  dulness  of  the  fool  60 
is  the  whetstone  of  the  wits.  How  now,  wit ! 
whither  wander  you? 

Touch.  Mistress,  you  must  come  away  to  your 
father. 

CeL  Were  you  made  the  messenger?  65 

Touch.  No,  by  mine  honour,  bnt  I  was  bid  to 
come  for  you. 

Ros.  Where  learned  you  that  oath,  fool? 

Touch.  Of  a  certain  knight  that  swore  by  his 
honour  they  were  good  pancakes,  and  swore  ?o 
by  his  honour  the  mustard  was  naught.  Now 
I'll  stand  to  it,  the  pancakes  were  naught 
and  the  mustard  was  good,  and  yet  was  not 
the  knight  forsworn. 

CeL  How  prove  you  that,  in  the  great  heap  of  rs 
your  knowledge? 

Ros.  Ay,  marry,  now  unmuzzle  your  wisdom. 

Touch.  Stand  you  both  forth  now.  Stroke  your 
chins,  and  swear  by  your  beards  that  I  am  a 
knave.  so 

CeL  By  our  beards,  if  we  had  them,  thou  art. 

Touch.  By  my  knavery,  if  I  had  it,  then  I  were. 


ACT  I.  Sc.  ii.j      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT,  57 

But  if  you  swear  by  that  that  is  not,  you  are 
not  forsworn.  No  more  was  this  knight, 
8?  swearing  by  his  honour,  for  he  never  had  any; 
or  if  he  had,  he  had  sworn  it  away  before 
ever  he  saw  those  pancakes  or  that  mus- 
tard. 

Cel.  Prithee,  who  is't  that  thou  meanest? 
90  Touch.   One   that   old    Frederick,    your    father, 

loves. 

Cel.  My  father's  love  is  enough  to  honour  him. 
Enough!  speak  no  more  of  him.     You'll  be 
whipped  for  taxation  one  of  these  days. 
95  Touch.  The  more  pity,  that  fools  may  not  speak 

wisely  what  wise  men  do  foolishly. 
Cel.  By  my  troth,  thou  sayest  true;  for  since  the 
little  wit   that   fools  have  was  silenced,  the 
little  foolery  that  wise  men  have  makes  a  great 
100         show.     Here  comes  Monsieur  Le  Beau. 
Ros.  With  his  mouth  full  of  news. 
Cel.  Which  he  will  put  on  us,  as  pigeons  feed 

their  young. 

Ros.  Then  shall  we  be  news-crammed. 
105  Cel.  All  the  better ;  we  shall  be  the  more  market- 
able. 

Enter  Le  Beau. 

Bon  jour,  Monsieur  Le  Beau.     What's  the 

news? 

Le  Beau.  Fair  princess,  you  have  lost  much  good 
no         sport. 

Cel.  Sport!  Of  what  colour? 


58  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.       [ACT  I.  So.  & 

Le  Beau.  What    colour,    madam?  How   shall    I 
answer  you? 

Ros.  As  wit  and  fortune  will. 

Touch,  Or  as  the  Destinies  decree.  115 

Cel.  Well  said.     That  was  laid  on  with  a  trowel. 

Touch.  Nay,  if  I  keep  not  my  rank, — 

Ros.  Thou  losest  thy  old  smell. 

Le  Beau.  You  amaze  me,  ladies.     I  would  have 
told  you  of  good  wrestling,  which  you  have  120 
lost  the  sight  of. 

Ros.  Yet  tell  us  the  manner  of  the  wrestling. 

Le  Beau.  I  will  tell  you  the  beginning;  and,  if  it 
please  your  ladyships,  you  may  see  the  end; 
for  the  best  is  yet  to  do ;  and  here,  where  you  125 
are,  they  are  coming  to  perform  it. 

Cel.  Well,  the  beginning,  that  is  dead  and  buried. 

Le  Beau.  There  comes  an  old  man  and  his  three 
sons, — 

Cel.  I  could  match  this  beginning  with  an  oldiso 
tale. 

Le  Beau.  Three  proper  young  men,  of  excellent 
growth  and  presence. 

Ros.  With  bills  on  their  necks,   "Be  it  known 
unto  all  men  by  these  presents."  135 

Le  Beau.  The  eldest  of  the  three  wrestled  with 
Charles,  the  Duke's  wrestler;  which  Charles 
in  a  moment  threw  him,  and  broke  three  of 
his  ribs,  that  there  is  little  hope  of  life  in 
him.  So  he  served  the  second,  and  so  the  HI 
third.  Yonder  they  lie;  the  poor  old  man, 


ACT  I.  So.  ii.]      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  69 

their  father,  making  such  pitiful  dole  ovei 

them  that  all  the  beholders  take  his  part  with 

weeping. 
us  Ros.  Alas! 

Touch.  But  what  is  the  sport,  monsieur,  that  the 

ladies  have  lost? 

Le  Beau.  Why,  this  that  I  speak  of. 
Touch.  Thus  men  may  grow  wiser  every  day.     It 
150         is  the  first  time  that  ever  I  heard  breaking  of 

ribs  was  sport  for  ladies. 
Gel.  Or  I,  I  promise  thee. 
Ros.  But  is   there   any  else   longs   to   see   this 

broken  music  in  his   sides?     Is    there   yet 
166         another  dotes  upon  rib-breaking?     Shall  we 

see  this  wrestling,  cousin? 
Le  Beau.  You  must,  if  you  stay  here ;  for  here  is 

the  place  appointed  for  the  wrestling,  and 

they  are  ready  to  perform  it. 
teo  Gel.  Yonder,  sure,  they  are  coming.    Let  us  now 

stay  and  see  it. 
Flourish.    Enter  Duke  Frederick,  Lords,  Orlando, 

Charles,  and  Attendants. 
Duke  F.  Come  on.     Since  the  youth  will  not  be 

entreated,  his  own  peril  on  his  forwardness. 
Ros.  Is  yonder  the  man? 
165  Le  Beau.  Even  he,  madam. 

Gel.  Alas,  he  is  too  young!     Yet  he  looks  sue* 

cessfully. 
Duke  F.  How  now,   daughter  and  cousin !     Are 

you  crept  hither  to  see  the  wrestling? 


60  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.       [ACT  I.  So.  ii. 

Ros.  Ay,  my  liege,  so  please  you  give  us  leave,      wo 

Duke  F.  You  will  take  little  delight  in  it,  I  can 
tell  you,  there  is  such  odds  in  the  man.  In 
pity  of  the  challenger's  youth  I  would  fain 
dissuade  him,  but  he  will  not  be  entreated. 
Speak  to  him,  ladies;  see  if  you  can  move  ITS 
him. 

Cel.  Call  him  hither,  good  Monsieur  Le  Beau. 

Duke  F.  Bo  so;  I'll  not  he  by. 

Le  Beau.  Monsieur  the  challenger v  the  princess 
calls  for  you.  iso 

Orl.  I  attend  them  with  all  respect  and  duty. 

Ros,  Young  man,  have  you  challenged   Charles 
the  wrestler? 

Orl.  No,  fair  princess;  he  is  the   general   chal- 
lenger.    I  come  but  in,  as  others  do,  to  try  185 
with  him  the  strength  of  my  youth. 

Cel.  Young  gentleman,  your  spirits  are  too  bold 
for  your  years.  You  have  seen  cruel  proof  of 
this  man's  (strength.  If  you  saw  yourself 
with  your  eyes,  or  knew  yourself  with  your  190 
judgment,  the  fear  of  your  adventure  would 
counsel  you  to  a  more  equal  enterprise.  We 
pray  you,  for  your  own  sake,  to  embrace  your 
own  safety,  and  give  over  this  attempt. 

Ros.  Do,  young  sir;  your  reputation   shall   not  195 
therefore  be  misprised.     We  will  make  it  our 
suit  to  the  Duke  that  the  wrestling  might 
not  go  forward. 

Orl.  I  beseech  you,  punish  me  not  with  your  hard 


ACT  I.  So.  ii.]      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  61 

HO  thoughts,  wherein  I  confess  me  much  guilty, 
to  deny  so  fair  and  excellent  ladies  any  thing. 
But  let  your  fair  eyes  and  gentle  wishes  go 
with  me  to  my  trial;  wherein  if  I  be  foiled, 
there  is  hut  one  shamed  that  was  never 
¥»  gracious;  if  killed,  but  one  dead  that  is 
willing  to  be  so.  I  shall  do  my  friends  no 
wrong,  for  I  have  none  to  lament  me;  the 
world  no -in jury,  for  in  it  I  have  nothing. 
Only  in  the  world  I  fill  up  a  place,  which 
8io  may  be  better  supplied  when  I  have  made  it 

empty. 
Ros.  The  little  strength  that  I  have,  I  would  it 

were  with  you. 

CeL  And  mine,  to  eke  out  hers. 
ai5  Eos.  Fare  you  well !     Pray  heaven  I  be  deceived 

in  you ! 

CeL  Your  heart's  desires  be  with  you! 
Cha.  Come,  where  is  this  young  gallant  that  is  so 

desirous  to  lie  with  his  mother  earth? 
220  OrL  Ready,  sir ;  but  his  will  hath  in  it  a  more 

modest  working. 

Duke  F.  You  shall  try  but  one  fall. 
Cha.  No,  I  warrant  your  Grace,  you  shall  not 
entreat    him    to    a    second,    that    have    so 
225         mightily  persuaded  him  from  a  first. 

OrL  You  mean  to  mock  me  after ;  you  should  not 
have   mocked   me   before.     But   come   your 
ways. 
Ros.  Now  Hercules  be  thy  speed,  young  man ' 


62  AS  YOU   LIKE   IT.        [ACT!  So.  ii. 

CeL  I  would  I  were  invisible,  to  catch  the  strong  230 

fellow  by  the  leg.  [  They  wrestle. 

Ros.   0  excellent  young  man! 
CeL  If  I  had  a  thunderbolt  in  mine  eye  I  can  tell 

who  should  down. 

[Shout.     Charles  is  thrown. 

Duke  F.  No  more,  no  more.  235 

Orl.  Yes,  I  beseech  your  Grace.     1  am  not  yet 

well  breathed. 

Duke  F.  How  dost  thou,  Charles? 
Le  Beau.  He  cannot  speak,  my  lord. 
Duke  F.  Bear  him   away.      What  is   thy   name,  240 

young  man? 
Orl.  Orlando,  my  liege;  the  youngest  son  of  Sir 

Eoland  de  Boys. 

Duke  F.  I  would   thou  hadst  been  son  to  some 
man  else. 

The  world  esteemed  thy  father  honourable,     245 

But  I  did  find  him  still  mine  enemy. 

Thou  shouldst  have  better  pleased  me  with 
this  deed, 

Hadst  thou  descended  from  another  house. 

But  fare  thee  well ;  thou  art  a  gallant  youth. 

I  would  thou  hadst  told  me  of  another  father.  2&< 

[Exeunt  Duke  Fred. ,  train,  and  Le  Beau. 
Del.  Were  I  my  father,  coz,  would  I  do  this? 
Orl.  I  am  more  proud  to  be  Sir  Eoland's  son, 

His   youngest  son, — and  would  not  change 
that  calling, 

To  be  adopted  heir  to  Frederick. 


ACT  I.  So.  ii.j      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  63 

-s&Ros.  My  father  loved  Sir  Roland  as  his  soul, 
And  all  the  world  was  of  my  father's  mind. 
Had  I  before  known  this  young  man  his  son, 
I  should  have  given  him  tears  unto  entreaties, 
Ere  he  should  thus  have  ventured. 
Cel.  Gentle  cousin, 

260         Let  us  go  thank  him  and  encourage  him. 
My  father's  rough  and  envious  disposition 
Sticks   me    at    heart.     Sir,   you    have   well 

deserved. 

If  you  do  keep  your  promises  in  love 
But  justly,  as  you  have  exceeded  all  promise, 
865         Your  mistress  shall  be  happy. 

Ros.  Gentleman, 

[Giving  him  a  chain  from  her  neck* 
Wear  this  for  me,   one   out   of   suits  with 

fortune, 
That  could  give  more,   but  that  her  hand 

lacks  means. 
Shall  we  go,  coz? 

Cel.  Ay.     Fare  you  well,  fair  gentleman. 

Orl.  Can  I  not  say,   I   thank  you?     My   better 

parts 
270         Are  all  thrown  down,  and  that  which  here 

stands  up 

Is  bat  a  quintain,  a  mere  lifeless  block. 
Ros.  He  calls  us  back.     My  pride  fell  with  my 

fortunes ; 

I'll  ask  him  what  he  would.     Did  you  call, 
sir? 


84  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.        [ACT  I.  So.  ii 

Sir,  you  have  wrestled  well  and  overthrown 
More  than  your  enemies. 

CeL  Will  you  go,  coz?2?a 

Ros.  Have  with  you.     Fare  you  well. 

[Exeunt  Rosalind  and  Celia. 
Orl.  What  passion  hangs  these  weights  upon  my 

tongue? 

I  cannot  speak  to  her,  yet  she  urged  confer- 
ence. 

0  poor  Orlando,  thou  art  overthrown! 
Or  Charles  or  something  weaker  masters  thee.  280 

Re-enter  Le  Beau. 
Le  Beau.  Good  sir,  I  do  in  friendship   counsel 

you 

To  leave  this  place.    Albeit  you  have  deserved 
High    commendation,    true     applause,    and 

love, 

Yet  such  is  now  the  Duke's  condition, 
That  he  misconstrues  all  that  you  have  done.  285 
The  Duke  is  humorous : — what  he  is,  indeed, 
More  suits  you  to  conceive  than  I  to  speak  of. 
Orl.  I  thank  you,  sir:  and,   pray  you,   tell  me 

this: 

Which  of  the  two  was  daughter  of  the  Duke, 
That  here  was  at  the  wrestling?  290 

Le  Beau.  Neither  his  daughter,  if  we  judge  by 

manners ; 

But  yet,  indeed,  the  taller  is  his  daughter. 
The  other  is  daughter  to  the  banished  Duke, 
And  here  detained  by  her  usurping  uncle, 


ACT  I.  Sc.  iii.]      AS   YOU   LIKE   IT.  65 

295         To  keep  his  daughter  company ;  whose  loves 
Are  dearer  than  the  natural  bond  of  sisters. 
But  I  can  tell  you  that  of  late  this  Duke 
Hath  ta'en  displeasure    'gainst  his   gentle 

niece, 

Grounded  upon  no  other  argument 
300         But  that  the  people  praise  her  for  her  virtues, 
And  pity  her  for  her  good  father 's  sake ; 
And,  on  my  life,  his  malice  'gainst  the  lady 
Will  suddenly  break  forth.     Sir,  fare  you 

well. 

Hereafter,  in  a  better  world  than  this, 
305         I  shall  desire  more  love  and  knowledge  of 

you. 

Orl.  I  rest  much  bounden  to  you :  fare  you  well. 

[Exit  Le  Beau. 
Thus    must    I    from    the    smoke    into    the 

smother, 

From  tyrant  Duke  unto  a  tyrant  brother. 
But  heavenly  Eosalind !  [Exit. 


SCENE  III. 

A  room  in  the  palace. 

Enter  Celia  and  Rosalind. 
Cel.  Why,  cousin!  why,  Rosalind!  Cupid  have 

mercy !  not  a  word  ? 
Ros.  Not  one  to  throw  at  a  dog. 
3 


66  AS  YOU   LIKE  IT.       [ACT  I.  So.  iii. 

Cel.  No,  thy  words  are  too  precious  to  be  cast 
away  upon  curs ;  throw  some  of  them  at  me.  & 
Come,  lame  me  with  reasons. 

Ros.  Then  there  were  two  cousins  laid  up,  when 
the  one  should  be  lamed  with  reasons  and  the 
other  mad  without  any. 

Cel.  But  is  all  this  for  your  father?  w 

Ros.  No,  some  of  it  is  for  my  child's  father.  0, 
how  full  of  briers  is  this  working-day  world! 

Cel.  They  are  but  burs,  cousin,  thrown  upon  thee 
in  holiday  foolery.     If  we  walk  not  in  the 
trodden  paths,  our  very  petticoats  will  catch  is 
them. 

Ros.  I  could  shake  them  off  my  coat.  These  burs 
are  in  my  heart. 

Cel.  Hem  them  away. 

Ros.  I  would  try,  if  I  could  cry  hem  and  have  20 
him. 

Cel.   Come,  come,  wrestle  with  thy  affections. 

Ros.  0,  they  take  the  part  of  a  better  wrestler 
than  myself! 

Cel.  0,  a  good  wish  upon  you!  you  will  try  in 25 
time,  in  despite  of  a  fall.  But,  turning  these 
jests  out  of  service,  let  us  talk  in  good 
earnest.  Is  it  possible,  on  such  a  sudden, 
you  should  fall  into  so  strong  a  liking  with 
old  Sir  Roland's  youngest  son?  so 

Ros.  The  Duke  my  father  loved  his  father  dearly. 

Cel.  Doth  it  therefore  ensue  that  you  should  Icve 
Irs  son  dearly?  By  this  kind  of  chase,  I 


A01-1.  Sc.  iii.]     AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  67 

should  hate  him,   for  my  father   hated  his 
85         father  dearly ;  yet  I  hate  not  Orlando. 
Ros.  No,  faith,  hate  him  not,  for  my  sate. 
CeL  Why  should  I  not?  Doth  he  not  deserve  well? 
P<)s.  Let  me  love  him  for  that,  and  do  you  love 
him  because  I  do.     Look,  here  comes  the 
4C         Duke. 
CeL  With  his  eyes  full  of  anger. 

Enter  Luke  Frederick,  ivitli  Lords. 
Duke  F.  Mistress,  dispatch  you  with  your  safest 

haste, 

And  get  you  from  our  court. 
Bos.  Me,  uncle? 

Duke  F.  You,  cousin. 

Within  these  ten  days  if  that  thou  be'st  found 
45         So  near  our  public  court  as  twenty  miles, 

Thou  diest  for  it. 

Ros.  I  do  beseech  your  Grace, 

Let  me  the  knowledge  of  my  fault  bear  with 

me. 

If  with  myself  I  hold  intelligence, 
Or  have  acquaintance  with  mine  own  desires; 
50         If  that  I  do  not  dream,  or  be  not  frantic, — 
As  I  do  trust  I  am  not — then,  dear  uncle, 
Never  so  much  as  in  a  thought  unborn 
Did  I  offend  your  Highness. 
Duke  F.  Thus  do  all  traitors, 

If  their  purgation  did  consist  in  words, 
55         They  are  as  innocent  as  grace  itself. 

Let  it  suffice  thee  that  I  trust  thee  not. 


38  AS  YOU   LIKE   IT.       [ACT  I.  Sc.  in, 

Eos.  Yet  your  mistrust  cannot  make  me  a  traitor. 
Tell  me  whereon  the  likelihood  depends. 

Duke  F.  [Thou  art  thy  father's  daughter;  there's 
enough. 

Ros.  So  was  I  when  your  Highness  took  his  duke-  ec 

dom. 

So  was  I  when  your  Highness  banished  him. 
Treason  is  not  inherited,  my  lord; 
Or,  if  we  did  derive  it  from  our  friends, 
What's  that  to  me?  My  father  was  r.o  traitor. 
Then,  good  my  liege,  mistake  me  not  so  much  es 
To  think  my  poverty  is  treacherous. 

Cel.  Dear  sovereign,  hear  me  speak. 

Duke  F.     Ay,    Celia;    we   stayed    her    for    your 

sake, 
Else  had  she  with  her  father  ranged  along. 

Cel.  I  did  not  then  entreat  to  have  her  stay;          70 
It  was  your  pleasure  and  your  own  remorse. 
I  was  too  young  that  time  to  value  her. 
But  now  I  know  her.     If  she  be  a  traitor, 
Why  so  am  I.     We  still  have  slept  together, 
Rose    at    an    instant,    learned,    played,    eat  75 

together; 

And  wheresoe'er  we  went,  like  Juno's  swans, 
Still  we  went  coupled  and  inseparable. 

Duke  F.  She   is   too  subtle  for   thee;    and   her 

smoothness, 

Her  very  silence  and  her  patience 
Speak  to  the  people,  and  they  pity  her.  go 

Thou  art  a  fool.    She  robs  thee  of  thy  name; 


ACTl.  Sc.  lii.]      AS   YOU  LIKE  IT.  6$ 

And  thou  wilt  show  more  bright  and  seem 

more  virtuous 

When  she  is  gone.     Then  open  not  thy  lips. 
Firm  and  irrevocable  is  my  doom 
85         Which   I    have    passed    upon    her;    she    is 

banished. 
Cel.  Pronounce  that  sentence  then  on  me,   my 

liege ; 

I  cannot  live  out  of  her  company. 
Duke  F.  You   are  a  fool.     You,  niece,  provide 

yourself. 

If  you  outstay  the  time,  upon  mine  nonour, 
*)         And  in  the  greatness  of  my  word,  you  die. 

[Exeunt  Duke  Frederick  and  Lords. 

Cel.  0  my  poor  Eosalind,  whither  wilt  thou  go? 

Wilt  thou  change  fathers?     I  will  give  thee 

mine. 
I  charge  thee,  be  not  thou  more  grieved  thai? 

I  am. 

Ros.  I  have  more  cause. 

Cel.  Thou  hast  not,  cousin; 

95         Prithee,  be  cheerful.    Know'st  thou  not,  the 

Duke 

Hath  banished  me,  his  daughter? 
Ros.  That  he  hath  not.  • 

Cel.  No,  hath  not?  Rosalind  lacks  then  the  love 
Which  teacheth  thee  that  thou  and  I  am  one. 
Shall  we  be  sundered?  shall  we  part,  sweet 

girl? 
toe         No:  let  my  father  seek  another  heir 


TO  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT  I.  So.  iii 

Therefore  devise  with  me  how  we  may  fly, 
Whither  to  go  and  what  to  bear  with  us ; 
And  do  not  seek  to  take  your  change  upon 

you, 
To  bear  your  griefs  yourself,  and  leave  me 

out; 

For,  by  this  heaven,  now  at  our  sorrows  pale,  loe 
Say  what  thou  canst,  I'll  go  along  with  thee. 

Ros.  Why,  whither  shall  we  go? 

Cel.  To  seek  my  uncle  in  the  forest  of  Arden. 

Ros.  Alas,  what  danger  will  it  be  to  us, 

Maids  as  we  are,  to  travel  forth  so  far!  no 

Beauty  provoketh  thieves  sooner  than  gold. 

Cel.  I'll  put  myself  in  poor  and  mean  attire, 

And  with  a  kind  of  umber  smirch  my  face. 
The  like  do  you.     So  shall  we  pass  along 
And  never  stir  assailants. 

Ros.  Were  it  not  better,  n» 

Because  that  I  am  more  than  common  tall, 
That  I  did  suit  me  all  points  like  a  man? 
A  gallant  curtle-axe  upon  my  thigh, 
A  boar-spear  in  my  hand;  and — in  my  heart 
Lie  there  what  hidden  woman's  fear  there  120 

will— 

We'll  have  a  swashing  and  a  martial  outside, 
As  many  other  mannish  cowards  have 
That  do  outface  it  with  their  semblances. 

Cel.  What  shall  I  call  thee  when  thou  art  a  man? 

Ros.  I'll  have  no  worse  a  name  than  Jove's  own  ia 


ACT  I.  So.  iii.]     AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  71 

And  therefore  look  you  call  me  Gauymtde. 

But  what  will  you  be  called? 
Cel.  Something  that  hath  a  reference  to  my  state : 

No  longer  Celia,  but  Aliena. 
iso  Eos.  But,  cousin,  what  if  we  assayed  to  steal 

The  clownish  fool  out  of  your  father's  court? 

Would  he  not  be  a  comfort  to  our  travel? 
Cel.  He'll  go  along  o'er  the  wide  world  with  me. 

Leave  me  alone  to  woo  him.     Let's  away, 
135         And  get  our  jewels  and  our  wealth  together, 

Devise  the  fittest  time  and  safest  way 

To  hide  us  from  pursuit  that  will  be  made 

After  my  flight.     Now  go  we  in  content 

To  liberty  and  not  to  banishment. 

^Exeunt. 


ACT   SECOND 
SCENE  I. 

Tfie  Forest  of  A r den. 

Duke  senior ,  Amiens,   and  tioo   or  three 
Lords,  lilce  foresters. 

Duke  S.  Now,  my  co-mates  and  brothers  in  exile, 
Hath  not  old  custom  made  this  life  more 

sweet 
Than  that  of  painted  pomp?     Are  not  these 

woods 

More  free  from  peril  than  the  envious  court? 
Here  feel  we  but  the  penalty  of  Adam,  5 

The  seasons'  difference,  as  the  icy  fang 
And  churlish  chiding  of  the  winter's  wind, 
Which,   when   it   bites  and   blows  upon  my 

body, 

Even  till  I  shrink  with  cold,  I  smile  and  say 
"This  is  no  flattery:  these  are  counsellors       w 
That  feelingly  persuade  me  what  I  am." 
Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity; 
Which,  like  the  toad,  ugly  and  venomous, 
Wears  yet  a  precious  jewel  in  his  head: 
And  this  our  life,  exempt  from  public  haunt,  a 

72 


ACT  II.  So.  i.j      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT,  73 

Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running 

brooks, 

Sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  every  thing. 
Ami.  I   would   not   change   it.     Happy  is   your 

Grace, 

That  can  translate  the  stubbornness  of  for- 
tune 

ft         Into  so  quiet  and  so  sweet  a  style. 
Duke  S.  Come,  shall  we  go  and  kill  us  venison? 
And  yet  it  irks  me  the  poor  dappled  fools, 
Being  native  burghers  of  this  desert  city, 
Should   in   their   own   confines  with  forked 

heads 

25         Have  their  round  haunches  gored. 
First  Lord.  Indeed,  my  lord, 

The  melancholy  Jaques  grieves  at  that ; 
And,  in  that  kind,  swears  you  do  more  usurp 
Than  doth  your  brother  that  hath  banished 

you. 

To-day  my  Lord  of  Amiens  and  myself 
so         Did  steal  behind  him  as  he  lay  along 

Under  an  oak  whose  antique  root  peeps  out 
Upon  the  brook  that  brawls  along  this  wood: 
To  the  which  place  c,  poor  sequestered  stag, 
That  from  the  hunter's  aim  had  ta'en  a  hurt, 
»  Did  come  to  languish;  and  indeed,  my  lord, 
The  wretched  animal  heaved  forth  such 

groans, 

That  their  discharge  did  stretch  his  leathern 
coat 


74  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT  II.  Sc.  i 

Almost  to  bursting,  and  the  big  round  tears 
Coursed  one  another  down  his  innocent  nose 
In  piteous  chase;  and  thus  the  hairy  fool,       40 
Much  marked  of  the  melancholy  Jaques, 
Stood  on  the  extremest  verge  of  the  swift 

brook, 

Augmenting  it  with  tears. 
Duke  8.  But  what  said  Jaques? 

Did  he  not  moralize  this  spectacle? 
First  Lord.   0,  yes,  into  a  thousand  similes.  45 

First,    for   his    weeping   into   the    needless 

stream : 
"Poor   deer,"    quoth    he,    "thou   makest  a 

testament 

As  worldlings  do,  giving  thy  sum  of  more 
To  that  which  had  too  much."    Then,  being 

there  alone, 

Left  and  abandoned  of  his  velvet  friends,         so 
"  'Tis  right,"  quoth  he;  "thus  misery  doth 

part 

The  flux  of  company. "    Anon  a  careless  herd, 
Full  of  the  pasture,  jumps  along  by  him 
And  never  stays  to  greet  him.   "Ay,"  quoth 

Jaqnes, 

"  Sweep  on,  you  fat  and  greasy  citizens.  56 

'Tis  just  the  fashion.    Wherefore  do  you  look 
Upon  that  poor  and  broken  bankrupt  there?" 
Thus  most  invectively  he  pierceth  through 
The  body  of  the  country,  city,  court, 
Yea,,  and  of  this  our  life;  swearing  that  weed 


ACT  II.  So.  ii.]     AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  75 

Are    mere    usurpers,    tyrants,    and    what's 

worse, 

To  fright  the  animals  and  to  kill  them  up 
In  their  assigned  and  native  dwelling-place. 
Duke  S.  And  did  you  leave  him  in  this  contem- 
plation? 

.  Lord.  We  did,  my  lord,  weeping  and  com- 
menting 

Upon  the  sobbing  deer. 

Duke  S.  Show  me  the  place,. 

I  love  to  cope  him  in  these  sullen  fits, 
For  then  he's  full  of  matter. 
First  Lord.  I'll  bring  you  to  him  straight. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

A  room  in  the  palace. 
Enter  Duke  Frederick,  with  Lords. 

DuTce  F.  Can   it   be   possible   that   no   man   sa^ 

them? 

It  cannot  be.     Some  villains  of  my  court 
Are  of  consent  and  sufferance  in  this. 
First  Lord.  I  cannot  hear  of  any  that  did  see  her 
The  ladies,  her  attendants  of  her  chamber, 
Saw  her  a-bed,  and  in  the  morning  early 
They  found  the  bed   untreasured  of   then 
mistress. 


TO  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.    [Acx  u.  So  iii 

Sec.  Lord.  My  lord,  the  roynish  clown,  at  whom 

so  oft 
Your   Grace    was    wont    to    laugh,    is   also 

missing. 

Hisperia,  the  princess'  gentlewoman,  IG 

Confesses  that  she  secretly  o'erheard 
Your  daughter  and  her  cousin  much  com- 
mend 

The  parts  and  graces  of  the  wrestler 
That  did  but  lately  foil  the  sinewy  Charles; 
And  she  believes,  wherever  they  are  gone,       is 
That  youth  is  surely  in  their  company. 
Duke  F.  Send  to  his  brother.     Fetch  that  gallant 

hither. 

If  he  be  absent,  bring  his  brother  to  me; 
I'll  make  him  find  him.     Do  this  suddenly, 
And  let  not  search  and  inquisition  quail          so 
To  bring  again  these  foolish  runaways. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  III. 

Before  Oliver's  house. 
Enter  Orlando  and  Adam,  meeting. 

Orl  Who's  there? 

Adam.   What,  my  young  master?     0  my  gentle 

master ! 
0  my  sweet  master!     0  you  memory 


ACT  II.  So.  iii.]    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  77 

Of  old  Sir  Eoland!     Why,   what  make  you 
here? 

*  Why  are  you  virtuous?     Why  do  people  love 

you? 

And  wherefore  are  you  gentle,  strong,  and  val- 
iant? 

Why  would  you  be  so  fond  to  overcome 
*  The  bonny  priser  of  the  humorous  Duke? 
Yor.r  praise  is  come  too  swiftly  home  before 

you. 

10         Know  you  not,  master,  to  some  kind  of  men 
Their  graces  serve  them  bub  as  enemies? 
No   more   do   yours.     Your   virtues,    gentle 

master, 

Are  sanctified  and  holy  traitors  to  you. 
0,  what  a  world  is  this,  when  what  is  comely 
is         Envenoms  him  that  bears  it! 
Orl.  Why,  what's  the  matter? 
Adam.  0  unhappy  youth! 

Come  not  within  these  doors!     Within  this 

.-oof 

The  enemy  of  all  your  graces  lives. 
Your  brother — no,  no  brother;  yet  the  son — 
ao         Yet  not  the  son,  I  will  not  call  him  son, 
Of  him  I  was  about  to  call  his  father, — 
Hath  heard  your  praises,  and  this  night  he 

means 

To  burn  the  lodging  where  you  use  to  lie 
And  you  within  it.     If  he  fail  of  that, 

*  He  will  have  other  means  to  cut  you  off. 


78  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.    [ACT  II.  So.  iii 

I  overheard  him  and  his  practices. 
This  is  no  place ;  this  house  is  but  a  bu  tchery. 
Abhor  it,  fear  it,  do  not  enter  it. 
Orl.  Why,  whither,  Adam,  wouldst  thou  have  me 

go? 
Adam.  No     matter    whither,  so    you   come   not  so 

here. 
Orl.  What,  wouldst  thou  have  me  go  and  beg*my 

food? 

Or  with  a  base  and  boisterous  sword  enforce 
A  thievish  living  on  the  common  road? 
This  I  must  do,  or  know  not  what  to  do; 
Yet  this  I  will  not  do,  do  how  I  can;  35 

I  rather  will  subject  me  to  the  malice 
Of  a  diverted  blood  and  bloody  brother. 
Adam.  But   do   not   so.     I   have    five    hundred 

crowns, 

The  thrifty  hire  I  saved  under  your  father, 
Which  I  did  store  to  be  my  foster-nurse  40 

When  service  should  in  my  old  limbs  lie  lame? 
And  unregarded  age  in  corners  thrown. 
Take  that,  and  He  that  doth  the  ravens  feed 
Yea,  providently  caters  for  the  sparrow, 
Be  comfort  to  my  age!     Here  is  the  gold.        45 
All  this  I  give  you.     Let  me  be  your  servant. 
Though  I  look  old,  yet  I  am  strong  and  lusty; 
For  in  my  youth  I  never  did  apply 
Hot  and  rebellious  liquors  in  my  blood, 
Nor  did  not  with  unbashful  forehead  woo        bv 
The  means  of  weakness  and  debility; 


ACT  II.  So.  iii.]    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  W 

Therefore  my  age  is  as  a  lusty  winter, 
Frosty,  but  kindly.     Let  me  go  with  you ; 
I'll  do  the  service  of  a  younger  man 

55         In  all  your  business  and  necessities. 
OrL   0  good  old  man,  how  well  in  thee  appears 
The  constant  service  of  the  antique  world, 
When  service  sweat  for  duty,  not  for  meed! 
Thou  art  not  for  the  fashion  of  these  times, 

eo         Where  none  will  sweat  but  for  promotion, 
And  having  that  do  choke  their  service  up 
Even  with  the  having.    It  is  not  so  with  thee ; 
But,   poor  old  man,  thou  prunest  a  rotten 

tree, 
That  cannot  so  much  as  a  blossom  yield 

65         In  lieu  of  all  thy  pains  and  husbandry. 

But  come  thy  ways ;  we'll  go  along  together, 
And  ere  we  have  thy  youthful  wages  spent, 
We'll  light  upon  some  settled  low  content. 
Adam.  Master,  go  on,  and  I  will  follow  thee, 

TO         To  the  last  gasp,  with  truth  and  loyalty. 

From  seventeen  years  till  now  almost  four- 
score 

Here  lived  I,  but  now  live  here  no  more. 
At  seventeen  years  many  their  fortunes  seek, 
But  at  fourscore  it  is  too  late  a  week ; 

is         Yet  fortune  cannot  recompense  me  better 

Than  to  die  well  and  not  my  master's  debtor. 

[Exeunt. 


AS   SOU  LIKE  IT.    [ACT  ll  So  lv. 


SCENE   IV. 

The  Forest  of  AT  den. 

Enter  Rosalind  for  Ganymede,  Celia  for  Aliena, 
and  Touchstone. 

Ros.  0  Jupiter,  how  weary  are  my  spirits! 
Touch.  I  care  not  for  my  spirits,  if  my  legs  were 

not  weary. 
Ros.  I   could   find  in  my  heart  to  disgrace  my 

man's  apparel  and  to  cry  like  a  woman;  but 5 

I  must  comfort  the  weaker  vessel,  as  doublet 

and  hose  ought  to  show  itself  courageous  to 

petticoat;  therefore,    courage,   good  Aliena. 
Gel.  I  pray  you,  bear  with  me;  I  cannot  go  no 

further.  10 

Touch.  For  my  part,  I  had  rather  bear  with  you 

than  bear  you.     Yet  I  should  bear  no  cross 

if  I  did  bear  you,  for  I  think  you  have  no 

money  in  your  purse. 

Ros.  Well,  this  is  the  forest  of  Arden.  15 

Touch.  Ay,  now  am  I  in  Arden,  the  more  fool  I. 

When  I  was  at  home,  I  was  in  a  better  place; 

but  travellers  must  be  content. 
Ros.  Ay,  be  so,  good  Touchstone. 

Enter  Corin  and  Silvius. 

Look  you,  who  comes  here ;  a  young  man  and  ao 

an  old  in  solemn  talk. 


ACT  II.  Sc.  iv.]      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  81 

Cor.  That  is  the  way  to  make  her  scorn  you  still. 
Sil.  0  Corin,  that  thou  knew'st  how  I  do  love 

her! 

Cor.  I  partly  guess ;  for  I  have  loved  ere  now. 
25  Sil.  No,  Corin,  being  old,  thou  canst  not  guess, 
Though  in  thy  youth  thou  wast  as  true  a  lover 
As  ever  sighed  upon  a  midnight  pillow. 
But  if  thy  love  were  ever  like  to  mine, — 
As  sure  I  think  did  never  man  love  so — 
30  How  many  actions  most  ridiculous 

Hast  thou  been  drawn  to  by  thy  fantasy  ? 
Cor.  Into  a  thousand  that  I  have  forgotten. 
Sil.  0,  thou  didst  then  ne'er  love  so  heartily! 

If  thou  remember  'st  not  the  slightest  folly 
35          That  ever  love  did  make  thee  run  into, 
Thou  hast  not  loved ; 
Or  if  thou  hast  not  sat  as  I  do  now, 
Wearying  thy  hearer  in  thy  mistress '  praise 
Thou  hast  not  loved ; 

40  Or  if  thou  hast  not  broke  from  company 

Abruptly,  as  my  passion  now  makes  me, 
Thou  hast  not  loved. 

0  Phebe,  Phebe,  Phebe!  [Exit. 

Ros.  Alas,    poor    shepherd!    searching    of    thy 

wound, 

45  I  have  by  hard  adventure  found  mine  own. 

Touch.  And  I  mine.    I  remember,  when  I  was  in 

love  I  broke  my  sword  upon  a  stone  and  bid 

him  take  that  for  coming  a-night  to  Jane 

Smile;  and  I  remember  the  kissing  ^)f  her 


82  AS  YOU   LIKE   IT.     [ACT  II.  Sc.  iv. 

batlet  and  the  cow's  dugs  that  her  pretty  50 
chopt  hands  had  milked;  and  I   remember 
the  wooing  of  a  peascod  instead  of  her ;  from 
whom  I  took  two  cods  and,  giving  her  them 
again,  said  with  weeping  tears,  "Wear  these 
for  my  sake."     We  that  are  true  lovers  run 55 
into  strange  capers;  but  as  all  is  .mortal  in 
nature,  so  is  all   nature   in  love  mortal   in 
folly. 

Ros.  Thou  speakest  wiser  than  thou  art  ware  of. 

Touch.  Nay,  I  shall  ne'er  be  ware  of  mine  own  60 
wit  till  I  break  my  shins  against  it. 

Ros.  Jove,  Jove!  this  shepherd's  passion 
Is  much  upon  my  fashion. 

Touch.  And  mine;  but  it  grows  something  stale 
with  me.  65 

Cel.  I  pray  you,  one  of  you  question  yond  man 
If  he  for  gold  will  give  us  any  food. 
I  faint  almost  to  death. 

Touch,.  Holla,  you  clown! 

Ros.   Peace,  fool ;  he's  not  thy  kinsman. 

Cor.  Who  calls? 

Touch.  Your  betters,  sir. 

Cor.  Else  are  they  very  wretched.  TO 

Ros.  Peace,  I  say.     Good  even  to  you,  friend. 

Cor.  And  to  you,  gentle  sir,  and  to  you  alL 

Ros.  I  prithee,  shepherd,  if  that  love  or  gold 
Can  in  this  desert  place  buy  entertainment, 
Bring  us  where  we  may  rest  ourselves  and  75 
feed. 


ACT  II.  So.  iv,]    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  83 

Here's   a    young    maid    with    travel    much 

oppressed 

And  faints  for  succour. 

Cor.  Fair  sir,  I  pity  her, 

And  wish,  for  her  sake  more  than  for  mine 

own, 

My  fortunes  were  more  able  to  relieve  her; 
so          But  I  am  shepherd  to  another  man, 

And  do  not  shear  the  fleeces  that  I  graze. 
My  master  is  of  churlish  disposition, 
And  little  recks  to  find  the  way  to  heaven 
By  doing  deeds  of  hospitality. 
85          Besides,  his  cote,  his  flocks,  and  bounds  of 

feed 

Are  now  on  sale,  and  at  our  sheepcote  now, 
By  reason  of  his  absence,  there  is  nothing 
That  you  will  feed  on;   but  what  is,  come 

see, 

And  in  my  voice  most  welcome  shall  you  be. 
90  Ros.  What  is  he  that  shall   buy  his   flock   and 

pasture? 
Cor.  That  young  swain  that  you  saw  here  but 

erewhile, 

That  little  cares  for  buying  any  thing. 
Ros.  I  pray  thee,  if  it  stand  with  honesty, 

Buy  thou  the  cottage,  pasture,  and  the  flock, 
95          And  thou  shalt  have  to  pay  for  it  of  us. 
Gel.  And  we  will  mend  thy  wages.     I  like  this 

place, 
And  willingly  could  waste  my  time  in  it. 


84  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT  II    So.  v. 

Cor.  Assuredly  the  thing  is  to  be  sold. 

Go  with  me.     If  you  like  upon  report 
The  soil,  the  profit,  and  this  kind  of  life,        100 
I  will  your  very  faithful  feeder  be, 
And  buy  it  with  your  gold  right  suddenly. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  V. 

The  forest. 

Enter  Amiens,  Jaques,  and  others. 
SONG. 

Ami.         Under  the  greenwood  tree 
Who  loves  to  lie  with  me, 
And  turn  his  merry  note 
Unto  the  sweet  bird's  throat, 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither!         5 
Here  shall  he  see 
No  enemy 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 

Jaq.  More,  more,  I  prithee,  more. 

Ami.  It    will  make    you    melancholy,   Monsieur  10 
Jaques. 

Jaq.  I  thank  it.  More,  I  prithee,  more.  I  can 
suck  melancholy  out  of  a  song,  as  a  we-asel 
sucks  eggs.  More,  I  prithee,  more. 


ACT  II.  So.  v.J     AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  85 

15  Ami.  My  voice   is  ragged.       I   know  I   cannot 

please  you. 

Jaq.   I  do  not   desire  you   to   please  me;    I  do 
desire  you    to  sing.      Come,  more;  another 
stanzo.     Call  you  'em  stanzos? 
20  Ann.  What  you  will,  Monsieur  Jaques. 

Jaq.  Nay,  I  care  not  for  their  names;  they  owe 

me  nothing.     Will  you  sing? 
Ami.  More  at  your  request  than  to  please  myself. 
Jaq.  Well  then,  if  ever  I  thank  any  man,  I'll 
25          thank  you;  but  that  they  call  compliment  is 
like  the  encounter  of  two  dog-apes ;  and  when 
a  man  thanks  me  heartily,  methinks  I  have 
given  him  a  penny  and  he  renders  me  the 
beggarly  thanks.     Come,  sing;  and  you  that 
so          will  not,  hold  your  tongues. 

Ami.  Well,  I'll  end  the  song.      Sirs,  cover  the 
while;  the  Duke  will  drink  under  this  tree. 
He  hath  been  all  this  day  to  look  you. 
Jaq.  And  I  have  been  all  this  day  to  avoid  him. 
85          He  is  too  disputable  for  my   company.      I 
think  of  as  many  matters  as  he ;  but  I  give 
heaven  thanks,  and  make  no  boast  of  them. 
Come,  warble,  come. 

SONG. 

[All  together  here.\ 
Who  doth  ambition  shun, 
40  And  loves  to  live  i'  the  sun. 

Seeking  the  food  he  eats. 


86  &3  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT  II.  Sc.  v. 

And  pleased  with  what  he  gets, 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither! 

Here  shall  he  see 

No  enemy  is 

But  winter  and  rough  weather. 

Jaq.  I'll  give  you  a  verse  to  this  note,   that  I 

made  yesterday  in  despite  of  my  invention. 
Ami.  And  I'll  sing  it. 
Jaq.  Thus  it  goes: —  50 

If  it  do  come  to  pass 
That  any  man  turn  ass, 
Leaving  his  wealth  and  ease 
A  stubborn  will  to  please, 
Ducdame,  ducdame,  ducdame!  » 

Here  shall  he  see 
Gross  fools  as  he, 
And  if  he  will  come  to  me. 

Ami.  What's  that  "ducdame"? 
.  Jaq.   'Tis  a  Greek  invocation,  to  call  fools  into  aeo 
circle.     I'll  go    sleep,  if  I  can;  if  I  cannot, 
I'll  rail  against  all  the  first-born  of  Egypt. 

Ami.  And  I'll  go  seek  the  Duke;  his  banquet  is 
prepared.  [Exeunt  severally. 


ACTIL  So.  vi.J    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  87 


SCENE  VI. 

The  forest. 
Enter  Orlando  and  Adam. 

Adam.  Dear  master,  I  can  go  no  further.     0,  I 
die  for  food !      Here  lie  I  down,  and  measure 
out  my  grave.     Farewell,  kind  master. 
Orl.  Why,  how  now,  Adam!  no  greater  heart  in 

a  thee?  Live  a  little;  comfort  a  little;  cheer 
thyself  a  little.  If  this  uncouth  forest  yield 
any  thing  savage,  I  will  either  be  food  for  it 
or  bring  it  for  food  to  thee.  Thy  conceit  is 
nearer  death  than  thy  powers.  For  my  sake 

10  be  comfortable;  hold  death  awhile  at  the 
arm's  end.  I  will  here  be  with  thee  pres- 
ently; and  if  I  bring  thee  not  something  to 
eat,  I  will  give  thee  leave  to  die ;  but  if  thou 
diest  before  I  come,  thou  art  a  mocker  of  my 

<*»  labour.  Well  said !  thou  lookest  cheerly,  and 
I'll  be  with  thee  quickly.  Yet  thou  liest  in 
the  bleak  air.  Come,  I  will  bear  thee  to 
some  shelter;  and  thou  shalt  not  die  for  lack 
of  a  dinner,  if  there  live  any  thing  in  this 

20          desert.     Cheerly,  good  Adam!  [Exeunt, 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.    [ACT  11.  So.  vii. 


SCENE  VII. 

The  forest. 

A  table  set  out.     Enter  Duke  senior,  Amiens ,  and 
Lords,  like  outlaws. 

Duke  8.  I  think  he  be  transformed  into  a  beast, 

For  I  can  no  where  find  him  like  a  man. 
First  Lord.  My  lord,  he  is  but  even  now  gone 

hence. 

Here  was  he  merry,  hearing  of  a  song. 
Duke  8.  If  he,  compact  of  jars,  grow  musical,       B 
We  shall  have  shortly  discord  in  the  spheres. 
Go,  seek  him;  tell  him  I  would  speak  with 
him. 

Enter  Jaques. 
first  Lord.    He   saves  my  labour  by  his   own 

approach. 
Duke  S.  Why,  how  now,  monsieur !  what  a  life  is 

this, 
Tnat  your  poor  friends  must  woo  your  com- 10 

pany? 

What,  you  look  merrily ! 

Jat[.  A  fool,  a  fool !     I  met  a  fool  i'  the  forest, 
A  motley  fool.     A  miserable  world! 
As  I  do  live  by  food,  I  met  a  fool ; 
Who  laid  him  down  and  basked  him  in  the  *; 
sun, 


ACT  II.  So.  vii.J    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT,  89 

And  railed  on  Lady  Fortune  in  good  terms, 
In  good  set  terms,  and  yet  a  motley  fool. 
"Good  morrow,  fool,"  quoth  I.     "No,  sir," 

quoth  he, 
"Call  me  not  fool  till  heaven  hath  sent  me 

fortune." 

ao         And  then  he  drew  a  dial  from  his  poke, 
And,  looking  on  it  with  lack-lustre  eye, 
Says  very  wisely,  "It  is  ten  o'clock. 
Thus  we  may  see,"  quoth  he,  "how  the  world 


'Tis  but  an  hour  ago  since  it  was  nine; 
25         And  after  one  hour  more  'twill  be  eleven ; 

And  so,  from  hour  to  hour,  we  ripe  and  ripe, 
And  then,  from  hour  to  hour,  we  rot  and 

rot; 

And  thereby  hangs  a  tale. "    When  I  did  hear 
The  motley  fool  thus  moral  on  the  time, 
so         My  lungs  began  to  crow  like  chanticleer, 

That  fools  should  be  so  deep-contemplative; 
And  I  did  laugh  sans  intermission 
An  hour  by  his  dial.     0  noble  fool! 
A  worthy  fool!     Motley's  the  only  wear. 
85  Duke  S.   What  fool  is  this? 
Jaq.  0  worthy    fool!      One   that   hath    been    a 

courtier, 

And  says,  if  ladies  be  but  young  and  fair, 
They  have  the  gift  to  know  it;  and  in  his 

brain, 
Which  is  as  dry  as  the  remainder  biscuit 


90  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.    [ACT  II.  So.  vii. 

After   a    voyage,    he    hath    strange    places  4C 

crammed 

With  observation,  the  which  he  vents 
In  mangled  forms.     0  that  I  were  a  fool ! 
I  am  ambitious  for  a  motley  coat. 

Duke  S.  Thoushalt  have  one. 

Jaq.  It  is  my  only  suit; — 

Provided  that  you  weed  your  better  judg-  45 

merits 

Of  all  opinion  that  grows  rank  in  them 
That  I  am  wise.     I  must  have  liberty 
Withal,  as  large  a  charter  as  the  wind, 
To  blow  on  whom  I  please;  for  so  fools  have; 
And  they  that  are  most  galled  with  my  folly,  50 
They  most  must  laugh.     And  why,  sir,  must 

they  so? 

The  "why"  is  plain  as  way  to  parish  church. 
He  that  a  fool  doth  very  wisely  hit 
Doth  very  foolishly,  although  he  smart, 
[Not  to]  seem  senseless  of  the  bob;  if  not,      55 
The  wise  man's  folly  is  anatomized 
Even  by  the  squandering  glances  of  the  fool. 
Invest  me  in  my  motley.     Give  me  leave 
To  speak  my  mind,  and  I  will  through  and 

through 

Cleanse  the  foul  body  of  the  infected  world,  so 
If  they  will  patiently  receive  my  medicine. 

Duke  8.  Fie   on   thee!    I   can    tell    what    thou 
wouldst  do. 

Jaq.  What,  for  a  counter,  would  I  do  but  good? 


ACT  IX  Sc.  vii.J    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  91 

Duke  8,  Most  mischievous  foul  sin,  in  chiding 

sin. 
65         For  thou  thyself  hast  been  a  libertine, 

As  sensual  as  the  brutish  sting  itself; 

And  all  the  embossed  sores  and  headed  evils, 

That   thou   with    license   of    free  foot    has 
caught, 

Wouldst  thou  disgorge  into  the  general  world. 
ToJaq.  Why,  who  cries  out  on  pride, 

That  can  therein  tax  any  private  party? 

Doth  it  not  flow  as  hugely  as  the  sea, 

Till  that  the  wearer's  very  means  do  ebb? 

What  woman  in  the  city  do  I  name, 
75         When  that  I  say  the  city- woman  bears 

The  cost  of  princes  on  unworthy  shoulders? 

Who  can  come  in  and  say  that  I  mean  her, 

When  such  a  one  as  she  such  is  her  neigh- 
bour? 

Or  what  is  he  of  basest  function, 
80         That  says  his  bravery  is  not  on  my  cost, 

Thinking  that  I  mean  him,  but  therein  suits 

His  folly  to  the  mettle  of  my  speech? 

There  then ;  how  then?  what  then?     Let  me 
see  wherein 

My  tongue  hath  wronged  him.      If  it  do  him 
right, 

Then  he  hath  wronged  himself.      If  he  be 
free, 

Why  then  my  taxing  like  a  wild-goose  flies, 

Unclaimed  of  any  man.    But  who  comes  here? 


92  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.    [ACT  II.  So.  vii 

Enter  Orlando ,  with  his  sword  drawn. 
Orl.  Forbear,  and  eat  no  more. 
Jaq.  Why,  I  have  eat  none  yet. 

Orl.  Nor  shalt  not,  till  necessity  be  served. 
Jaq.   Of  what  kind  should  this  cock  come  of?         go 
Duke  8.  Art  thou  thus  boldened,  man,  by  thy  dis- 
tress? 

Or  else  a  rude  despiser  of  good  manners, 
That  in  civility  thou  seem'st  so  empty? 
Orl.  You  touched  my  vein  at  first;   the  thorny 

point 

Of  bare  distress  hath  ta'en  from  me  the  show  05 
Of  smooth  civility.     Yet  am  I  inland  bred 
And  know   some  nurture.     But   forbear,  I 

say. 

He  dies  that  touches  any  of  this  fruit 
Till  I  and  my  affairs  are  answered. 
Jaq.  An  you  will  not  be  answered  with  reason,       too 

I  must  die 
Duke  8.  What  would  you  have?    Your  gentleness 

shall  force, 

More  than  your  force  move  us  to  gentleness. 
Orl.  I  almost  die  for  food ;  and  let  me  have  it. 
Duke  8.  Sit  down  and  feed,  and  welcome  to  our  109 

table. 
Orl.  Speak  you  so  gently?     Pardon  me,  I  pray 

you. 
I  thought  that  all  things  had  been  savage 

here, 
And  therefore  put  I  on  the  countenance 


ACT  11.  So.  vii.]    AS  YOU  LIKE  TT.  93 

Of  stern  commandment.     But  whatever  you 

are 
no         That  in  this  desert  inaccessible, 

Under  the  shade  of  melancholy  boughs, 
Lose  arid  neglect  the  creeping  hours  of  time; 
If  ever  you  have  looked  on  better  days, 
If  ever  been    where   bells  have   knolled  to 

church, 

H5         If  ever  sat  at  any  good  man's  feast, 
If  ever  from  your  eyelids  wiped  a  tear 
And  know  what  'tis  to  pity  and  be  pitied, 
Let  gentleness  my  strong  enforcement  be ; 
In  the  which  hope   I   blush,   and  hide  my 

sword. 

wDuke  8.  True  is  it  that  we  have  seen  better  days, 
And   have  with   holy   bell  been  knolled   to 

church, 
And  sat  at  good  men's  feasts,  and  wiped  our 

eyes 

Of  drops  that  sacred  pity  hath  engendered; 
And  therefore  sit  you  down  in  gentleness 
t25         And  take  upon  command  what  help  we  have 

That  to  your  wanting  may  be  ministered. 
Orl.  Then  but  forbear  your  food  a  little  while, 
Whiles,  like  a  doe,  I  go  to  find  my  fawn 
And  give  it  food.    There  is  an  old  poor  man, 
180         Who  after  me  hath  many  a  weary  step 

Limped  in  pure  love.    Till  he  be  first  sufficed, 
Oppressed  with   two  weak    evils,    age    and 
hunger, 


94  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.     f  ACT  XL  So.  vii 

I  will  not  touch,  a  bit. 
Duke  8.  Go  find  him  out, 

And  we  will  nothing  waste  till  you  return. 
OrL   I  thank  ye;  and  be  blest  for  your  good  com- 135 

fort!  [Exit. 

Duke  S.   Thou  seest  we  are  not  all  alone  unhappy. 
This  wide  and  universal  theatre 
Presents  more  woeful  pageants  than  the  scene 
Wherein  we  play  in. 

Jaq.  All  the  world  's  a  stage, 

And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players.  140 
They  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances, 
And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts, 
His   acts   being   seven   ages.      At  first    the 

infant, 

Mewling  and  puking  in  the  nurse's  arms. 
Then  the  whining  school-boy,  with  his  satchel  145 
And  shining  morning  face,  creeping  like  snail 
Unwillingly  to  school.     And  then  the  lover, 
Sighing  like  furnace,  with  a  woeful  ballad 
Made   to   his   mistress'    eyebrow.       Then  a 

soldier, 
Full  of  strange  oaths,  and  bearded  like  the  iso 

pard, 
Jealous  in   honour,   sudden,    and   quick    in 

quarrel, 

Seeking  the  bubble  reputation 
Even  in  the  cannon's  mouth.     And  then  the 

justice, 
In  fair  round  belly  with  good  capon  lined, 


ACT  II.  So.  vii.]   AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  95 

186         With  eyes  severe  and  beard  of  formal  cut, 
Full  of  wise  saws  and  modern  instances; 
And  so  he  plays  his  part.   The  sixth  age  shift? 
Into  the  lean  and  slippered  pantaloon, 
With  spectacles  on  nose  and  pouch  on  side, 
MO         His  youthful  hose,  well  saved,  a  world  too 

wide 
For  his  shrunk  shank ;  and  his  big  manl j 

voice, 

Turning  again  toward  childish  treble,  pipes 
And  whistles  in  his  sound.    Last  scene  of  all, 
That  ends  this  strange  eventful  history, 
IC5         Is  second  childishness  and  mere  oblivion, 

Sans  teeth,  sans  eyes,  sans  taste,  sans  every 
thing. 

Re-enter  Orlando,  with  Adam. 
Duke  S.    Welcome.      Set  down  your  venerable 

burthen, 

And  let  him  feed. 
OrL  I  thank  you  most  for  him. 
Adam.  So  had  you  need: 

ITO         I  scarce  can  speak  to  thank  you  for  myself. 
Duke  8   Welcome;   fall  to.     I  will  not  trouble 

you 

As  yet,  to  question  you  about  your  fortunes. 
Give  us  some  music;  and,  good  cousin,  sing. 

SONG. 

Ami.         Blow,  Wow,  thou  winter  wincL 
ITS  Thou  art  not  so  unkind 


96  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT  II.  Sc.  vii. 

As  man's  ingratitude; 
Thy  tooth  is  not  so  keen, 
Because  thou  art  not  seen, 

Although  thy  breath  be  rude. 

Heigh-ho!  sing,  heigh-ho!  unto  the  green  holly,    iso 
Most  friendship  is  feigning,  most  loving  mere  folly. 
Then,  heigh-ho,  the  holly ! 
This  life  is  most  jolly. 

Freeze,  freeze,  thou  bitter  sky, 

That  dost  not  bite  so  nigh  iss 

As  benefits  forgot; 
Though  thou  the  waters  warp, 
Thy  sting  is  not  so  sharp 

As  friend  remembered  not. 

Heigh-ho!  sing,  etc.  190 

Duke  S.  If  that  you  were  the  good  Sir  Roland's 

son, 

As  you  have  whispered  faithfully  you  were, 
And  as  mine  eye  doth  his  effigies  witness 
Most  truly  limned  and  living  in  your  face. 
Be  truly  welcome  hither.     I  am  the  Duke      195 
That  loved  your  father.  The  residue  of  your 

fortune, 

Go  to  my  cave  and  tell  me.    Good  old  man, 
Thou  art  right  welcome  as  thy  master  is. 
Support  him  by  the  arm.     Give  me  your 

hand, 

And  let  me  all  your  fortunes  understand.      200 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  THIRD. 

SCENE  I. 

A  room  in  the  palace. 
Enter  Duke  Frederick,  Lords,  and  Oliver. 

Duke  F.  Not  see  him  since?    Sir,  sir,  that  cannot 

be: 

But  were  I  not  the  better  part  made  mercy, 
I  should  riot  seek  an  absent  argument 
Of  my  revenge,  thou  present.    But  look  to  it. 
5         Find  out  thy  brother,  wheresoe'er  he  is ; 

Seek  him  with  candle;   bring  him  dead  oi 

living 
Within  this  twelvemonth,  or  turn  thou  no 

more 

To  seek  a  living  in  our  territory. 
Thy  lands  and  all  things  that  thou  dost  call 

thine 
to         Worth  seizure  do  we  seize  into  our  hands, 

Till  thou  canst  quit  thee  by  thy  brother's 

mouth 

Of  what  we  think  against  thee. 
OH.  0  that  your  Highness  knew  my  heart  in 

this! 
I  never  loved  my  brother  in  my  life. 

4  97 


98  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.     [ACT  III.  So.  ii 

Duke  F.  More  villain  thou.     Well,  push  him  out  is 

of  doors; 

And  let  my  officers  of  such  a  nature 
Make  an  extent  upon  his  house  and  lands. 
Do  this  expediently  and  turn  him  going. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

The  forest. 
Enter  Orlando,  with  a  paper. 

Orl.  Hang  there,   my  verse,  in  witness  of  my 

love; 
And  thou,  thrice-crowned  queen  of  night, 

survey 
With  thy  chaste  eye,  from  thy  pale  sphere 

above, 
Thy  huntress'  name  that  my  full  life  doth 

sway. 

0  Rosalind!  these  trees  shall  be  my  books,     5 
And  in  their  barks  my  thoughts  I'll  char- 
acter ; 
That  every  eye  which  in  this  forest  looks 

Shall  see  thy  virtue  witnessed  every  where. 
Run.  run,  Orlando;  carve  on  every  tree 
The  fair,  the  chaste,  and  unexpressive  she.     10 

[Exit. 


I.U.  Sc.  ii.]    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  99 

Enter  Corin  and  Touchstone. 
Cor,  And  Irow  like  you  this  shepherd's  life,  Master 

Touchstone? 

Touch.  Truly,  shepherd,  in  respect  of  itself,  it  is 
a  good  life ;  but  in  respect  that  it  is  a  shep- 

15  herd's  life,  it  is  naught.  In  respect  that  it 
is  solitary,  I  like  it  very  well ;  but  in  respect 
that  it  is  private,  it  is  a  very  vile  life.  Now, 
in  respect  it  is  in  the  fields,  it  pleasetli  me 
well ;  but  in  respect  it  is  not  in  the  court,  it 

to  is  tedious.  As  it  is  a  spare  life,  look  you, 
it  fits  my  humour  well ;  but  as  there  is  no 
more  plenty  in  it,  it  goes  much  against  my 
stomach.  Hast  any  philosophy  in  thee? 
shepherd? 

85  Cor.  No  more  but  that  I  know  the  more  one 
sickens  the  worse  at  ease  he  is ;  and  that  he 
that  wants  money,  means,  and  content  is 
without  three  good  friends;  that  the  prop- 
erty of  rain  is  to  wet  and  fire  to  burn ;  that 

so  good  pasture  makes  fat  sheep,  and  that  a 
great  cause  of  the  night  is  lack  of  the  sun; 
that  he  that  hath  learned  no  wit  by  nature 
nor  art  may  complain  of  good  breeding  or 
comes  of  a  very  dull  kindred. 

85  Touch.  Such  a    one  is   a    natural    philosopher. 

Wast  ever  in  court,  shepherd? 
Cor.  No,  truly. 

Touch.  Then  thou  art  damned, 
Cor.  Nay,  I  hope- 


100  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT  III.  So.  ii. 

Touch.  Truly,  thou  art  damned,  like  an  ill-roasted  40 
egg  all  on  one  side. 

Cor.  For  not  being  at  court?     Your  reason. 

Touch.  Why,  if  thou  never  wast  at  court,  thou 
never  sawest  good  manners;  if  thou  never 
sawest  good  manners,  then  thy  manners  must  45 
be  wicked;  and  wickedness  is  sin,  and  sin  is 
damnation.  Thou  art  in  a  parlous  state, 
shepherd. 

f?or.  Not  a  whit,  Touchstone.  Those  that  are 
good  manners  at  the  court  are  as  ridiculous  so 
in  the  country  as  the  behaviour  of  the 
country  is  most  mockable  at  the  court.  You 
told  me  you  salute  not  at  the  court  but  you 
kiss  your  hands.  That  courtesy  would  be 
uncleanly,  if  courtiers  were  shepherds.  55 

Touch.  Instance,  briefly;  come,  instance. 

Cor.  Why,  we  are  still  handling  our  ewes,  and 
their  fells,  you  know,  are  greasy. 

Touch.  Why,  do  not  your  courtier's  hands  sweat? 
And  is  not  the  grease  of  a  mutton  as  whole-  eo 
some  as  the  sweat  of  a  man?     Shallow,  shal 
low.     A  better  instance,  I  say;  come. 

Cor.  Besides,  our  hands  are  hard. 

Touch.  Your  lips  will  feel  them  the  sooner.  Shal- 
low again.  A  more  sounder  instance,  come.  65 

Cor.  And  they  are  often  tarred  over  with  the 
surgery  of  our  sheep ;  and  would  you  have  us 
kiss  tar?  The  courtier's  hands  are  perfumed 
with  civet. 


ACT  III.  So.  ii.]     AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  101 

70  Touch.  Most  shallow  man!  thou  worm's- meat, 
in  respect  of  a  good  piece  of  flesh  indeed! 
Learn  of  the  wise,  and  perpend.  Civet  is  of 
a  baser  birth  than  tar,  the  very  uncleanly 
flux  of  a  cat.  Mend  the  instance,  shepherd. 

75  Cor.  You  have   too  courtly  a  wit  for  me.     I'll 

rest. 

Touch.  Wilt  thou  rest  damned?  God  help  thee, 
shallow  man!  God  make  incision  in  thee! 
Thou  art  raw. 

so  Cor.  Sir,  I  am  a  true  labourer.  I  earn  that  I  eat, 
get  that  I  wear,  owe  no  man  hate,  envy  no 
man's  happiness,  glad  of  other  men's  good, 
content  with  my  harm,  and  the  greatest  of 
my  pride  is  to  see  my  ewes  graze  and  my 

85  lambs  suck.  Here  comes  young  Master 
Ganymede,  my  new  mistress's  brother. 

Enter  Rosalind,  with  a  paper,  reading. 

Ros.     From  the  east  to  western  Ind. 
No  jewel  is  like  Rosalind. 
Her  worth,  being  mounted  on  the  wind, 
00  Through  all  the  world  bears  Rosalind. 

All  the  pictures  fairest  lined 
Are  but  black  to  Rosalind. 
Let  no  face  be  kept  in  mind 
But  the  fair  of  Rosalind. 

95  Touch.  I'll  rhyme  you  so  eight  years  together, 
dinners  and  suppers  and  sleeDinfir-hours 


102  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT  III.  So.  ii. 

excepted.      It  is  the  right    butter-women's 

rank  to  market. 
Eos.  Out,  fool! 
Touch.  For  a  taste: —  toe 

If  a  hart  do  lack  a  hind, 

Let  him  seek  out  Rosalind. 

If  the  cat  will  after  kind, 

So  be  sure  will  Rosalind. 

Winter  garments  must  be  lined,  *a 

So  must  slender  Rosalind. 

They  that  reap  must  sheaf  and  bind, 

Then  to  cart  with  Rosalind. 

Sweetest  nut  hath  sourest  rind, 

Such  a  nut  is  Rosalind.  no 

He  that  sweetest  rose  will  find, 

Must  find  love's  prick  and  Rosalind. 

This  is  the  very  false  gallop  of  verses.     Why 

do  you  infect  yourself  with  them? 
Ros.  Peace,  you  dull  fool!      I  found  them  on  &  ill 

tree. 

Touch.  Truly,  the  tree  yields  bad  fruit. 
Ros.  I'll  graff  it  with  you,  and  then  I  shall  graft 

it  with  a  medlar.    Then  it  will  be  the  earliest 

fruit  i'  the  country;  for  you'll  be  rotten  ere  120 

you  be  half  ripe,  and  that's  the  right  virtu0, 

of  the  medlar. 
Touch.  You  have  said;  but  whether  wisely  or  no, 

let  the  forest  judge. 


ACT  III.  Sc.  ii.]    A3  YOU  LIKE  IT.  103 

Enter  Celia,  with  a  writing. 
mRos.  Peace! 

Here     comes     my    sister,     reading;     stand 
aside. 
Gel.  {Reads.']  Why  should  this  a  desert  be? 

For  it  is  unpeopled?     No ! 
ISO  Tongues  I'll  hang  on  every  tree, 

That  shall  civil  sayings  show : 
Some,  how  brief  the  life  of  man 

Kuns  his  erring  pilgrimage, 
That  the  stretching  of  a  span 
IBS  Buckles  in  his  sum  of  age; 

Some,  of  violated  vows 

'Twixt  the  souls  of  friend  and  friend; 
But  upon  the  fairest  boughs, 

Or  at  every  sentence  end, 
140  Will  I  Kosalinda  write, 

Teaching  all  that  read  to  know 
The  quintessence  of  every  sprite 
Heaven  would  in  little  show. 
Therefore  Heaven  Nature  charged 
145  That  one  body  should  be  filled 

With  all  graces  wide-enlaiged. 

Nature  presently  distilled 
Helen's  cheek,  but  not  her  heart, 

Cleopatra's  majesty, 
150  Atalanta's  better  part, 

Sad  Lucretia's  modesty. 
Thus  Eosalind  of  many  parts 
By  heavenly  synod  was  devised s 


104  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.     [ACT  III.  So.  it 

Of  many  faces,  eyes,  and  hearts, 

To  have  the  touches  dearest  prized.  155 

Heaven  would  that  she  these   gifts   should 

have, 

And  I  to  live  and  die  her  slave. 
Hos.  0  most  gentle  pulpiter !  what  tedious  homily 
of  love  have  you  wearied  your  parishioners 
withal,  and  never  cried  "Have  patience,  goodieo 
people!" 
Gel.  How  now!      Back,  friends!      Shepherd,  go 

off  a  little.     Go  with  him,  sirrah. 
Touch.   Come,  shepherd,  let  us  make  an  honour- 
able retreat ;  though  not  with  bag  and  bag- 165 
gage,  yet  with  scrip  and  scrippage. 

[Exeunt  Corin  and  Touchstone. 

Gel.  Didst  thou  hear  these  verses? 

Ros.  0,  yes,  I  heard  them  all,  and  more,  too;  for 
some  of  them  had  in  them  more  feet  than 
the  verses  would  bear.  170 

Gel.  That's  no  matter  The  feet  might  bear  the 
verses. 

Ros.  Ay,  but  the  feet  were  lame  and  could  not 
bear  themselves  without  the  verse  and  there- 
fore stood  lamely  in  the  verse.  ITS 

Gel.  But  didst  thou  hear  without  wondering  how 
thy  name  should  be  hanged  and  carved  upon 
these  trees? 

Ros,  I  was  seven  of  the  nine  days  out  of  the 
wonder  before  you  came;  for  look  hereiso 


ACT  III.  So.  ii.]    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  105 

what  I  found  on  a  palm  tree.  1  was 
never  so  berhymed  since  Pythagoras'  time, 
that  I  was  an  Irish  rat,  which  I  can  hardly 
remember. 

185  Cel.  Trow  you  who  hath  done  this? 
Eos.  Is  it  a  man? 
Cel.  And  a  chain,  that  you  once  wore,  about  his 

neck.     Change  you  colour? 
Eos.  I  prithee,  who? 

190  Cel.  0  Lord,  Lord !  it  is  a  hard  matter  for  friends 
to  meet ;  but  mountains  may  be  removed  with 
earthquakes  and  so  encounter. 
Eos.  Nay,  but  who  is  it? 
Cel.  Is  it  possible? 

v&Ros.  Nay,  I  prithee    now  with  most  petitionary 

vehemence,  tell  me  who  it  is. 
Cel.  0  wonderful,  wonderful,  and  most  wonderful 
wonderful!    and  yet   again    wonderful,   and 
after  that,  out  of  all  hooping! 

200 Eos.  Good  my  complexion!  dost  thou  think, 
though  I  am  caparisoned  like  a  man,  I  have 
a  doublet  and  hose  in  my  disposition?  One 
inch  of  delay  more  is  a  South- sea  of  discov- 
ery. I  prithee,  tell  me  who  is  it  quickly, 

205  and  speak  apace.  I  would  thou  couldst 
stammer,  that  thou  might'st  pour  this  con- 
cealed man  out  of  thy  mouth,  as  wine  comes 
out  of  a  narrow-mouthed  bottle,  either  too 
much  at  once,  or  none  at  all.  I  prithee, 

210         take  the  cork  out  of  thy  mouth  that  I  may 


106  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.     [ACT  III.  So.  ii 

drink  thy  tidings.  ...  Is  he  of  God's  making? 
What  manner  of  man?  Is  his  head  worth  a 
hat  or  his  chin  worth  a  beard? 

Cel.  Nay,  he  hath  but  a  little  beard. 

Ros.  Why,  God  will  send  more,  if  the  man  will  215 
be  thankful.      Let  me  stay  the  growth  of  his 
beard,  if  thou  delay  me  not  the  knowledge  of 
his  chin. 

Cel.  It   is  young  Orlando,  that  tripped  up  the 
wrestler's  heels  and  your  heart  both  in  an  220 
instant. 

Ros.  Nay,  but  the  devil  take  mocking.      Speak 
sad  brow  and  true  maid. 

Cel.  I'  faith,  coz,  'tis  he. 

Ros.  Orlando?  225 

Cel.  Orlando. 

Ros.  Alas  the  day!  what  shall  I  do  with  my 
doublet  and  hose?  What  did  he  when  thou 
sawest  him?  What  said  he?  How  looked 
he?  Wherein  went  he?  What  makes  he  230 
here?  Did  he  ask  for  me?  Where  remains 
he?  How  parted  he  with  thee?  And  when 
shalt  thou  see  him  again?  Answer  me  in  one 
word. 

Vel.  You  must  borrow   me   Gargantua's   month  235 
first.     'Tis  a  word  too  great  for  any  mouth 
of  this  age's  size.     To  say  ay  and  no  to  these 
particulars  is  more  than  to  answer  in  a  cate- 
chism. 

Uos.  But  doth  he  know  that  I  am  in  this  forest 240 


ACT  III.  So.  ii.j    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  107 

and  in  man's  apparel?     Looks  he  as  freshly 

as  he  did  the  day  he  wrestled? 
Cel.  It  is  as  easy  to  count  atomies  as  to  resolve 

the  propositions  of  a  lover.     But  take  a  taste 
245         of  my  finding  him,  and  relish  it  with  good 

observance.      I  found  him  under  a  tree,  like 

a  dropped  acorn. 
Ros.  It  may  well  be  called  Jove's  tree,  when  it 

drops  forth  such  fruit. 
250  Cel.  Give  me  audience,  good  madam. 
Ros.  Proceed. 
Cel.  There     lay     he,    stretched     along,    like    a 

wounded  knight. 

Ros.  Though  it  be  pity  to  see  such  a  sight,  it 
255         well  becomes  the  ground. 

Cel.   Cry  "holla"   to  thy   tongue,   I   prithee;   iv 

curvets   unseasonably.      He    was    furnished 

like  a  hunter. 

Ros.  0,  ominous!  he  comes  to  kill  my  heart. 
260  Cel.  I  would   sing   my  song  without  a   burden. 

Thou  bringest  me  out  of  tune. 
Ros.  Do  you  not  know  I  am  a  woman?     When  I 

think,  I  must  speak.     Sweet,  say  on. 
Cel.  You  bring  me  out.      Soft!    comes   he  not 
265         here? 

Enter  Orlando  and  Jaques. 

Ros.   'Tis  he.     Slink  by,  and  note  him. 
Jaq.  I  thank  you  for  your  company;  but,  good 
faith,  I  had  as  lief  have  been  myself  alone. 


108  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT  III.  So.  ii. 

Orl.  And  so  had  I;  but  yet,  for  fashion  sake, 

I  thank  you  too  for  your  society.  270 

Jaq.  God  buy  you;  let's  meet  as  little  as  we  can. 
Orl.  I  do  desire  we  may  be  better  strangers. 
Jaq.  I  pray  you,  mar  no  more  trees  with  writing 

love-songs  in  their  barks. 
Orl.  I  pray  you,  mar  no  moe  of  my  verses  with  275 

reading  them  ill-favouredly. 
Jaq.  Eosalind  is  your  love's  name? 
Orl.  Yes,  just. 
Jaq.  I  do  not  like  her  name. 
Orl.  There  was  no  thought  of  pleasing  you  when  280 

she  was  christened. 
Jaq.  What  stature  is  she  of? 
Orl.  Just  as  high  as  my  heart. 
Jaq.  You  are  full  of  pretty  answers.     Have  you 

not  been  acquainted  with  goldsmiths'  wives,  285 

and  conned  them  out  of  rings? 
Orl.  Not   so;    but  I  answer  you   right   painted 

cloth,  from  whence  you  have  studied  your 

questions. 
Jaq.  You  have  a  nimble  wit.    I  think  'twas  made  290 

of  Atalanta's  heels.     Will  you  sit  down  with 

me?  and  we  two  will  rail  against  our  mistress 

the  world,  and  all  our  misery. 
Orl.  I  will  chide  no  breather  in  the  world  but 

myself,  against  whom  I  know  most  faults.       295 
Jaq.  The  worst  fault  you  have  is  to  be  in  love. 
Orl.  'Tis  a  fault  I  will  not  change  for  your  best 

virtue.     I  am  wearv  of  w  ~' 


ACT  III.  Sc.  ii.j    AS  VOU  i,iKE  11.  109 

Jaq.  By  my  troth,  I  was  seeking  for  a  fool  when 
300         I  found  you. 

Orl.  He  is  drowned  in  the  brook.     Look  but  in, 

and  you  shall  see  him. 
Jaq.   There  I  shall  see  mine  own  figure. 
Orl.  Which  I  take  to  be  either  a  fool  or  a  cipher. 
sob  Jaq.  I'll   tarry   no  longer  with  you.     Farewell, 

good  Signior  Love.     • 
Orl.  I  am  glad  of  your  departure.     Adieu,  good 

Monsieur  Melancholy.  [Exit  Jaques. 

Ros.  [Aside  to  Celia.]  I  will  speak  to  him  like  a 

310         saucy  lackey,  and  under  that  habit  play  the 

knave  with  him.     Do  you  hear,  forester? 
Orl.  Very  well.     What  would  you? 
Eos.  I  pray  you,  what  is  't  o'clock? 
Orl.  You   should   ask    me  what   time    o'    day. 
sis         There's  no  clock  in  the  forest. 

Eos.  Then  there  is  no  true  lover  in  the  forest ; 

else  sighing  every  minute  and  groaning  every 

hour  would  detect  the  lazy  foot  of  Time  as 

well  as  a  clock. 
820  Orl.  And  why  not  the  swift  foot  of  Time?     Had 

not  that  been  as  proper? 
Eos.  By  no  means,  sir.     Time  travels  in  divers 

paces  with  divers  persons.     I'll  tell  you  who 

Time  ambles  withal,  who  Time  trots  withal, 
325         who  Time  gallops  withal,  and  who  he  stands 

still  withal. 

Orl.  I  prithee,  who  doth  he  trot  withal? 
Eos.  Marry,  he  trots   hard  with  a  young  maid 


HO  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.     [ACT  III.  So.  ii 

between  the  contract  of  her  marriage  and  the 
day  it  is  solemnized.     If  the  interim  be  but  330 
a  se'nnight,  Time's  pace  is  so  hard  that  it 
seems  the  length  of  seven  year. 

Orl .  Who  ambles  Time  withal? 

Ros.  With  a  priest  that  lacks  Latin,  and  a  rich 
man  that  hath  not  the  gout;  for   the   one 335 
sleeps  easily   because  he  cannot  study,  and 
the  other  lives  merrily  because  he  feels  no 
pain ;  the  one  lacking  the  burden  of  lean  and 
wasteful   learning,    the    other    knowing    no 
burden   of    heavy   tedious    penury.      These  340 
Time  ambles  witbal. 

Orl.  Who  doth  he  gallop  withal? 

Ros.  With  a  thief  to  the  gallows ;  for  though  he 
go  as  softly  as  foot  can  fall,  he  thinks 
himself  too  soon  there.  345 

Orl.  Who  stays  it  still  withal? 

Eos.  With  lawyers  in  the  vacation;  for  they  sleep 
between  term  and  term  and  then  they 
perceive  not  how  Time  moves. 

Orl.  Where  dwell  you,  pretty  youth?  350 

Ros.  With  this  shepherdess,  my  sister ;  here  in  the 
skirts  of  the  forest,  like  fringe  upon  a  petticoat. 

Orl.  Are  you  native  of  this  place? 

Ros.  As  the  cony  that  you  see  dwell  where  she  is 
kindled.  355 

Orl.  Your  accent  is  something  finer  than  you 
could  purchase  in  so  'removed  a  dwelling. 

Ros.  I  have  been  told  so  of  many ;  but  indeed  an 


ACT  III.  Sc.  ii.]    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  Ill 

old   religious   uncle   of    mine  taught  me  to 

seo  speak,  who  was  in  his  youth  an  inland  man; 
one  that  knew  courtship  too  well,  for  there 
he  fell  in  love.  I  have  heard  him  read  many 
lectures  against  it,  and  I  thank  God  I  am  not 
a  woman,  to  be  touched  with  so  many  giddy 

365         offences  as    he    hath   generally   taxed  their 

whole  sex  withal. 
OrL  Can  you  remember  any  of  the  principal  evils 

that  he  laid  to  the  charge  of  women? 
Eos.  There  were  none  principal;  they    were   all 

STO  like  one  another  as  half-pence  are,  every  one 
fault  seeming  monstrous  till  his  fellow-fault 
came  to  match  it. 

OrL  I  prithee,  recount  some  of  them. 
Eos.  Nc ,  I  will  not  cast  away  my  physic  but  on 

375  those  that  are  sick.  There  is  a  man  haunts 
the  forest,  that  abuses  our  young  plants  with 
carving  Kosalind  on  their  barks ;  hangs  odes 
upon  hawthorns  and  elegies  on  brambles ;  all, 
forsooth,  deifying  the  name  of  Eosalind.  If 

880         I  could  meet  that  fancy-monger,   I   would 
give  him  some  good  counsel,  for  he  seems  to 
have  the  quotidian  of  love  upon  him. 
OrL  I  am  he  that  is  so  love-shaked.     I  pray  you, 
tell  me  your  remedy. 

386 Eos.  There  is  none  of  my  uncle's  marks  upon 
you.  He  taught  me  how  to  know  a  man  in 
love,  in  which  cage  of  rushes  I  am  sure  you 
are  not  prisoner. 


112  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.     [ACT  III.  So.  11. 

OrL  What  were  his  marks? 

Ros.  A  lean  cheek,  which  you  have  not;  a  blue  390 
eye  and  sunken,   which   you   have   not;   an 
unquestionable  spirit,  which  you  have  not;  a 
beard  neglected,  which  you  have  not;  but  I 
pardon  you  for  that,  for  simply  your  having 
in   beard    is   a   younger    brother's   revenue.  395 
Then  your  hose  should  be  ungartered,  your 
bonnet  unbanded,  your   sleeve  unbuttoned, 
your  shoe  untied,  and  every  thing  about  you 
demonstrating   a    careless    desolation.     But 
you  are  no  such  man ;  you  are  rather  point-  400 
device    in    your   accoutrements,    as    loving 
yourself  than  seeming  the  lover  of  any  other. 

OrL  Fair   youth,    I   would   I   could   make    thee 
believe  I  love. 

Ros.  Me  believe  it!  you  may  as  soon  make  her  405 
that  you  love  believe  it;  which,  I  warrant, 
she  is  apter  to  do  than  to  confess  she  does. 
That  is  one  of  the  points  in  the  which  women 
still  give  the  lie  to  their  consciences.     But, 
in  good  sooth,   are  you  he  that  hangs  the  4io 
verses  on  the  trees,  wherein  Eosalind  is  so 
admired? 

OrL  I  swear  to  thee,  youth,  by  the  white  hand  of 
Eosalind,  I  am  that  he,  that  unfortunate  he. 

Ros.   But  are  you  so  much  in  love  as  your  rhymes  415 
speak? 

OrL   Neither  rhyme  nor  reason  can  express  how 
much. 


ACT  III.  So.  ii.]   AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  113 

Ros.  Love  is  merely  a  madness,  and,  I  tell  you, 

«ao  deserves  as  well  a  dark  house  and  a  whip  as 
madmen  do;  and  the  reason  why  they  are 
not  so  punished  and  cured  is,  that  the  lunacy 
is  so  ordinary  that  the  whippers  are  in  love 
too.  Yet  I  profess  curing  it  by  counsel. 

485  OrL  Did  you  ever  cure  any  so? 

Ros.  Yes,  one,  and  in  this  manner.  He  was  to 
imagine  me  his  love,  his  mistress,  and  I  set 
him  every  day  to  woo  me;  at  which  time 
would  I,  being  but  a  moonish  youth,  grieve, 

iso  be  effeminate,  changeable,  longing  and 
liking;  proud,  fantastical,  apish,  shallow, 
inconstant,  full  of  tears,  full  of  smiles;  for 
;very  passion  something  and  for  no  passion 
truly  any  thing,  as  boys  and  women  are  for 

435  the  most  part  cattle  of  this  colour;  would 
now  like  him,  now  loathe  him;  then  enter- 
tain him,  then  forswear  him;  now  weep  for 
him,  then  spit  at  him;  that  I  drave  my 
suitor  from  his  mad  humour  of  love  to  a 

440  living  humour  of  madness;  which  was,  to 
forswear  the  full  stream  of  the  world  and  tp 
live  in  a  nook,  merely  monastic.  And  thus 
1  cured  him ;  and  this  way  will  I  take  upon 
me  to  wash  your  liver  as  clean  as  a  sound 

445         sheep's  heart,  that  there  shall  not  be  one 

spot  of  love  iii't. 

OrL  I  would  not  be  cured,  youth. 
Ros.  I  would  cure  you,  if  you  would  but  call  m* 


114  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.    [ACT  III.  So.  ill 

Rosalind  and  come  every  day  to  my  cote  and 
woo  me.  4So 

OrL  Now,  by  the  faith  of  my  love,  I  will.  Tell 
me  where  it  is. 

Ros.  Go  with  me  to  it  and  I'll  show  it  you;  and 
by  the  way  you  shall  tell  me  where  in  the 
forest  you  live.  Will  you  go?  4» 

OrL  With  all  my  heart,  good  youth. 

Bos,  Nay,  you  must  call  me  Rosalind.  Come, 
sister,  will  you  go?  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  III. 

TJie  forest. 
Knter  Touchstone  and  Audrey;  Jaques 

Touch.  Come  apace,  good  Audrey.  I  will  fetch 
up  your  goats,  Audrey.  And  how,  Audrey? 
Am  I  the  man  yet?  Doth  my  simple  feature 
content  you? 

And.  Your  features!     Lord   warrant   us!    what* 
features? 

Touch.  I  am  here  with  thee  and  thy  goats,  as  the 
most  capricious  poet,  honest  Ovid,  was  among 
the  Goths. 

Tag.  [Aside.]  0  knowledge   ill-inhabited,   worse  10 
than  Jove  in  a  thatched  house ! 

Touch.  When  a  man's  verses  cannot  be  under- 
stood, nor  a  man's  good  wit  seconded  with 


ACT  III.  So.  iii.]  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  115 

the  forward  child,  understanding,  it  strikes 
15         a  man  more  dead  than  a  great  reckoning  in  a 
little  room.     Truly,  I  would  the  gods  had 
made  thee  poetical. 

And.  I  do  not  know  what  "poetical"  is.     Is  it 
honest  in  deed  and  word?    Is  it  a  true  thing9 
£0  Touch.  No,  truly  >  for  the  truest  poetry  is  the 
most    feigning;    and    lovers    are    given    to 
poetry,  and  what  they  swear  in  poetry  may 
be  said  as  lovers  they  do  feign. 
And.  Do  you  wish  then  that  the  gods  had  made 
85         me  poetical? 

Touch.  I  do,  truly;  for  thou  swearest  to  me  thou 
art  honest.      Now,  if  thou  wert  a  poet,  I 
might  have  some  hope  thou  didst  feign. 
Aud.  Would  you  not  have  me  honest? 
ao  Touch.  No,  truly,  unless  thou  wert  hard-favoured ; 
for  honesty  coupled   to   beauty   is   to  have 
honey  a  sauce  to  sugar. 
Jaq.   [Aside.]  A  material  fool! 
Aud.  Well,  I  am  not  fair;  and  therefore  I  pray 
85         the  gods  make  me  honest. 

Touch.  Truly,  and  to  cast  away  honesty  upon  a 
foul  slut  were  to  put  good  meat  into  an 
unclean  dish. 

Aud.  I  am  not  a  slut,  though  I  thank  the  gods  I 
40         am  foul. 

Touch.  Well,  praised  be  the  gods  for  thy  foul- 
ness! Sluttishness  may  come  hereafter. 
But  be  it  as  it  may  be,  I  will  marry  thee, 


116  AS  YOD  LIKE  IT.    [ACT  III.  So.  iii 

and  to  that  end  I  have  been  with  Sir  Oliver 
Martext,  the  vicar  of  the  next  village,  who  45 
hath  promised  to  meet  me  in  this  place  of  the 
forest  and  to  couple  us. 

Jaq.  [Aside.]  I  would  fain  see  this  meeting. 

And.  Well,  the  gods  give  us  joy! 

Touch.  Amen.     A   man  may,  if  he  were  of  a  so 
fearful  heart,  stagger  in  this  attempt;  for 
here  we  have  no  temple  but  the  wood,  no 
assembly  but  horn-beasts.    But  what  though? 
durage!     As  horns   are    odious,   they    are 
necessary.     It  is  said,  "Many  a  man  knows 55 
no  end  of  his  goods."    Eight;  many  a  man 
has  good  horns,  and  knows  no  end  of  them. 
Well,  that  is  the  dowry  of  his  wife ;  'tis  none 
of  his  own  getting.     Horns? — even  so.     Poor 
men  alone?     No,  no;  the  noblest  deer  hatheo 
them  as  huge  as  the  rascal.     Is  the  single 
man   therefore  blessed?     No:    as    a    walled 
town  is  more  worthier  than  a  village,  so  is 
the  forehead  of  a  married  man  more  honour- 
able than  the  bare  brow  of  a  bachelor ;  and  65 
by  how  much  defence  is  better  than  no  skill, 
by  so  much  is  a  horn  more  precious  than  to 
want.     Here  comes  Sir  Oliver. 

Enter  Sir  Oliver  Martext. 
Sir  Oliver  Martext,  you  are  well  met.     Will 
you  dispatch  us  here  under  this  tree,  or  shall  TO 
we  go  with  you  to  your  chapel? 

Sit   DU.  Is  there  none  here  to  give  the  woman? 


ACT  III.  Sc.  iii.]  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  117 

Touch.  I  will  not  take  her  on  gift  of  any  man. 
Sir  Oli.  Truly,  she  must  be  given,  or  the  marriage 
75         is  not  lawful. 
Jaq.  Proceed,  proceed.     I'll  give  her. 
Touch.  Good  even,  good  Master  What-ye-call-X 

how  do  you,   sir?     You  are  very  well  met. 

God  Mid  you  for  your  last  company.     I  am 
so         very  glad  to  see  you.     Even  a  toy  in  hand 

here,  sir.     Nay,  pray  be  covered. 
Jaq.  Will  you  be  married,  motley? 
Touch.  As  the  ox  hath  his  bow,  sir,  the  horse  his 

curb,  and  the  falcon  her  bells,  so  man  hath 
85         his  desires;  and  as  pigeons  bill,  so  wedlock 

would  be  nibbling. 
Jaq.  And  will  you,  being  a  man  of  your  breeding, 

be  married  under  a  bush  like  a  beggar?     Get 

you  to  church,  and  have  a  good  priest  that 
90         can  tell  you  what  marriage  is.     This  fellow 

will   but   join    you    together    as    they  join 

wainscot;    then    one   of    you    will    prove    a 

shrunk  panel,  and  like  green  timber  warp, 

warp. 
95  Touch.  [Aside.']  I  am  not  in  the  mind  but  I  were 

better  to  be  married  of  him  than  of  another ; 

for  he  is  not  like  to  marry  me  well ;  and  not 

being  well  married,  it  will  be  a  good  excuse 

for  me  hereafter  to  leave  my  wife. 
looJaq.  Go  thou  with  me,  and  let  me  counsel  thea 
Touch.  Come,  sweet  Audrey: 

We  must  be  married.  .  . 


118  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  [ACT.  III.  So.  iv. 

Farewell,  good  Master  Oliver:  not, — 
0  sweet  Oliver, 

0  brave  Oliver,  i« 

Leave  me  not  behind  thee; 
but, — 

Wind  away, 
Begone,  I  say, 

I  will  not  to  wedding  with  thee.  no 

[Exeunt  Jaques,  Touchstone,  and  Audrey. 

Sir    Oil.    "Pis   no   matter.      Ne'er  a  fantastical 

knave  of  them  all  shall  flout  me  out  of  my 

calling.  [Exit. 


SCENE  IV. 

! 

The  forest. 
Enter  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Bos.  Never  talk  to  me;  I  will  weep. 

Cel.  Do,   I   prithee;  but  yet  have  the  grace  to 

consider  that  tears  do  not  become  a  man. 
Eos.  But  have  I  not  cause  to  weep? 
Cel.  As  good  cause  as  one  would  desire;  therefore 5 

weep. 

Ros.  His  very  hair  is  of  the  dissembling  colour. 
Cel.  Something  browner   than   Judas's.     Marry, 

his  kisses  are  Judas's  own  children. 
Ro*.  I'  faith,  his  hair  is  of  a  good  colour.  ic 


ACT  III.  So.  iv.]  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  119 

Cel.  AD    excellent   colour.     Your   chestnut    was 

ever  the  only  colour. 
Ros.  And  his  kissing  is  as  full  of  sanctity  as  the 

touch  of  holy  bread. 

15  Cel.  He  hath  bought  a  pair  of  cast  lips  of  Diana. 

A  nun  of  winter's  sisterhood  kisses  not  more 

religiously.  The  very  ice  of  chastity  is  in  them. 

Ros.  But  why  did  he  swear  he  would  come  this 

morning,  and  comes  not? 

so  Cel.  Nay,  certainly,  there  is  no  truth  in  him. 
Ros.  Do  you  think  so? 

Cel.  Yes;  I  think  he  is  not  a  pick-purse  nor  a 
horse-stealer ;  bat  for  his  verity  in  love,  I  do 
thiiik  him  as  concave  as  a  covered  goblet  or 
25         a  worm-eaten  nut. 
Ros.  Not  true  in  love? 

Cel.  Yes,  when  he  is  in ;  but  I  think  he  is  not  in. 
Ros.  You  have  heard  him  swear  downright  he 

was. 

so  Cel.  "Was"  is  not  "is."  Besides,  the  oath  of  a 
lover  is  no  stronger  than  the  word  of  a 
tapster ;  they  are  both  the  confirmer  of  false 
reckonings.  He  attends  here  in  the  forest 
on  the  Duke  your  father. 

85  Ros.  I  met  the  Duke  yesterday  and  had  much 
question  with  him.  He  asked  me  of  what 
parentage  I  was.  I  told  him,  of  as  good  as 
he;  so  he  laughed  and  let  me  go.  But  what 
talk  we  of  fathers,  when  there  is  such  a  man 
40  as  Orlando? 


120  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.    [ACT  111.  Sc.  iv. 

Cel.  0,   that's   a  brave  man!     He  writes  brave 
verses,    speaks   brave   words,    swears    brave 
oaths     and     breaks     them     bravely,     quite 
traverse,  athwart  the  heart  of  his  lover;  as  a 
puisny  tilter,  that  spurs  his  horse  but  on  one  45 
side,  breaks  his  staff  like  a  noble  goose.    But 
all's  brave   that  youth    mounts    and    folly 
guides.     Who  comes  here? 
Enter  Corin. 

Cor.  Mistress  and  master,  you  have  oft  inquired 
After  the  shepherd  that  complained  of  love,  50 
Who  you  saw  sitting  by  me  on  the  turf, 
Praising  the  proud  disdainful  shepherdess 
That  was  his  mistress. 

Cel.  Well,  and  what  of  him? 

Cor.  If  you  will  see  a  pageant  truly  played, 

Between  the  pale  complexion  of  true  love       55 
And  the  red  glow  of  scorn  and  proud  disdain, 
Go  hence  a  little  and  I  shall  conduct  you, 
If  you  will  mark  it. 

Ros.  0,  come,  let  us  remove. 

The  sight  of  lovers  feedeth  those  in  love. 
Bring  us  to  this  sight,  and  you  shall  say         eo 
I'll  prove  a  busy  actor  in  their  play. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  III.  So.  v.]    AS  YOU  LIKE  II  121 


SCENE  V. 

A  nother  part  of  the  forest. 
Enter  Silvius  and  Phebe. 

SiL  Sweet   Phebe,    do   not   scorn   me;    do   not, 

Phebe. 

Say  that  you  love  me  not,  but  say  not  so 
In  bitterness.     The  common  executioner, 
Whose  heart  the  accustomed  sight  of  death 

makes  hard, 
5         Falls  not  the  axe  upon  the  humbled  neck 

But  first  begs  pardon.     Will  you  sterner  be 
Than  he  that  dies  and  lives  by  bloody  drops? 
Enter  Rosalind ,  Celia,  and  Cor  in,  behind. 
Phe.  I  would  not  be  thy  executioner. 

I  fly  thee,  for  I  would  not  injure  thee. 
10         Thou  tell'st  me  there  is  murder  in  mine  eye 
'Tis  pretty,  sure,  and  very  probable, 
That  eyes,  that  are  the  frail'st  and  softest 

things, 

Who  shut  their  coward  gates  on  atomies, 
Should  be   called    tyrants,    butchers,    mur 

derers ! 

16         Now  I  do  frown  on  thee  with  all  my  heart ; 
And  if  mine  eyes  can  wound,  now  let  them 
kill  thee. 


122  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.     [ACT  III.  Sc.  v. 

Now   counterfeit   to    swoon;  why,   now   fall 

down; 

Or  if  thou  canst  not,  0,  for  shame,  for  shame, 
Lie  not,  to  say  mine  eyes  are  murderers! 
Now  show  the  wound  mine  eye  hath  made  in  20 

thee. 
Scratch   thee    but    with   a   pin,    and   there 

remains 

Some  scar  of  it;  lean  but  upon  a  rush, 
The  cicatrice  and  capable  impressure 
Thy  palm   some   moment   keeps;    but   now 

mine  eyes, 
Which   I    have   darted  at    thee,    hurt    thee 25 

not, 

Nor,  I  am  sure,  there  is  no  force  in  eyes 
That  can  do  hurt. 

Sil.  0  dear  Phebe, 

If  ever, — as  that  ever  may  be  near — 
You  meet  in  some  fresh  cheek  the  power  of 

fancy, 

Then  shall  you  know  the  wounds  invisible      so 
That  love's  keen  arrows  make. 
Plie.  But  till  that  time 

Come  not  thou  near  me ;  and  when  that  time 

comes, 

Afflict  me  with  thy  mocks,  pity  me  not, 
As  till  that  time  I  shall  not  pity  thee. 
Ros.  And  why,  I  pray  you?     Who  might  be  your  36 

mother, 
That  you  insult,  exult,  and  all  at  once, 


ACT  III.  So.  v.]    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 

Over  the  wretched?     What  though  you  have 

no  beauty, — 

As,  by  my  faith,  I  see  no  more  in  yon 
Than  without  candle  may  go  dark  to  bed — 
00         Must  you  be  therefore  proud  and  pitiless? 

Why,  what  means  this?     Why  do  you  look 

on  me? 

I  see  no  more  in  you  than  in  the  ordinary 
Of  nature's  sale-work.     'Od's  my  little  life, 
I  think  she  means  to  tangle  my  eyes  too ! 
45         No,  faith,  proud  mistress,  hope  not  after  it. 
'Tis   not  your  inky  brows,  your  black  silk 

hair, 
Your   bugle    eyeballs,    nor    your    cheek    of 

cream, 

That  can  entame  my  spirits  to  your  worship. 
You  foolish  shepherd,  wherefore  do  you  fol- 
low her, 

so         Like  foggy  south,  puffing  with  wind  and  rain? 
You  are  a  thousand  times  a  properer  man 
Than  she  a  woman.     'Tis  such  fools  as  you 
That   makes  the  world  full  of  ill-favoured 

children. 

'Tis  not  her  glass,  but  you,  that  flatters  her; 
56         And  out  of  you  she  sees  herself  more  proper 
Than  any  of  her  lineaments  can  show  her. 
But,  mistress,  know  yourself.     Down  on  your 

knees, 
And  thank  heaven,  fasting,  for  a  good  man's 


124  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT  III.  So.  v. 

For  I  must  tell  you  friendly  in  your  ear, 

Sell   when   you   can.     You   are   not  for  alleo 

markets. 

Cry  the  man  mercy ;  love  him ;  take  his  offer. 
Foul  is  most  foul,  "being  foul  to  he  a  scoffer. 
So  take  her  to  thee,  shepherd.  Fare  you 

well. 
Plie.  Sweet   youth,    I   pray  you,    chide    a   year 

together. 
I  had  rather  hear  you  chide  than  this  man  65 

woo. 

Ros.  He's  fallen  in  love  with  your  foulness,  and 
she'll  fall  in  love  with  my  anger.  If  it  be  so, 
as  fast  as  she  answers  thee  with  frowning 
looks,  I'll  sauce  her  with  bitter  words.  Why 
look  you  so  upon  me?  TO 

Phe.  For  no  ill  will  I  bear  you. 
Ros.  I  pray  you,  do  not  fall  in  love  with  me, 
For  I  am  falser  than  vows  made  in  wine. 
Besides,  I  like  you  not.     If  you  will  know 

my  house, 

'Tis  at  the  tuft  of  olives  here  hard  by.  75 

Will  you  go,  sister?  Shepherd,  ply  her  hard. 
Come,  sister.  Shepherdess,  look  on  him 

better, 
And  be  not  proud.     Though  all  the  world 

could  see, 

None  coald  be  so  abused  in  sight  as  he. 
Come,  to  our  flock.  W 

\Exeunt  Rosalind*  Celia*  and  Corin. 


ACT  III.  Sc.  v.]    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  135 

Phe.  Dead  shepherd,  now  I  find  thy  saw  of  might, 
"Who   ever  loved   that   loved   not   at    first 
sight?" 

Sil  Sweet  Phebe, 

Phe.  Ha,  what  say'st  thou,  Silvius? 

Sil.  Sweet  Phebe,  pity  me. 

ssPhe.  Why,  I  am  sorry  for  thee,  gentle  Silvius. 
SiL  Wherever  sorrow  is,  relief  would  be. 
If  you  do  sorrow  at  my  grief  in  love, 
By  giving  love,  your  sorrow  and  my  grief 
Were  both  extermined. 
90 Phe.  Thou  hast   my  love.     Is  not   that   neigh- 

hourly? 

Sil.  I  would  have  you. 

Phe.  Why,  that  were  covetousness 

Silvius,  the  time  was  that  I  hated  thee, 
And  yet  it  is  not  that  I  bear  thee  love; 
But  since  that  thou  canst  talk  of  love  so  well, 
95         Thy  company,  which  erst  was  irksome  to  me, 
I  will  endure,  and  I'll  employ  thee  too. 
But  do  not  look  for  further  recompense 
Than   thine    own    gladness    that    thou    art 

employed. 

Sil.  So  holy  and  so  perfect  is  my  love, 
100  And  I  in  such  a  poverty  of  grace, 

That  I  shall  think  it  a  most  plenteous  crop 
To  glean  the  broken  ears  after  the  man 
That  the  main   harvest   reaps.     Loose   now 

and  then 
A  scattered  smile,  and  that  I'll  live  uponu 


126  AJS  YOU  LIKE  IT.     [ACT  III,  So.  v 

Phe.  Know'st  thou  the  youth  that  spoke  to  meios 

erewhile? 
SiL  Not  very  well,  but  I  have  met  him  oft; 

And  he  hath  bought  the   cottage  and  the 

bounds 

That  the  old  carlot  once  was  master  of. 
Phe.  Think  not  I  love  him,  though  I  ask  for  him; 
'Tis  but  a  peevish  boy;  yet  he  talks  well.        no 
But  what  care  I  for  words?  Yet  words  do  well 
When  he  that  speaks  them  pleases  those  that 

hear. 

It  is  a  pretty  youth;  not  very  pretty; 
But,   sure,   he's   proud,    and   yet  his  pride 

becomes  him. 
He'll  make  a  proper  man.     The  best  thing  U6 

in  him 

Is  his  complexion;  and  faster  than  his  tongue 
Did  make  offence  his  eye  did  heal  it  up 
He  is  not  very  tall ;  yet  for  his  years  he's  tall 
His  leg  is  but  so  so ;  and  yet  'tis  well. 
There  was  a  pretty  redness  in  his  lip,  i2t 

A  little  riper  and  more  lusty  red 
Than  that  mixed  in  his  cheek;  'twas  just  the 

difference 
Betwixb     the     constant    red    and     mingled 

damask. 
There   be   some   women,    Silvius,   had   they 

marked  him 

In  parcels  as  I  did,  would  have  gone  near       126 
To  fall  in  love  with  him;  but,  for  my  part, 


AC1  III.  Sc.  v.J    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  127 

I  love  him  not  nor  hate  him  not;  and  yei 
I  have  more  cause  to  hate  him  than  to  love 

him; 

For  what  had  he  to  do  to  chide  at  me? 
iau         He  said  mine  eyes  were  black  and  my  hair 

black ; 

And,  now  I  am  remembered,  scorned  at  me. 
I  marvel  why  I  answered  not  again. 
But  that's  all  one;  omittance  is  no  quittance. 
I'll  write  to  him  a  very  taunting  letter, 
186         And  thou  shalt  bear  it ;  wilt  thou,  Silvius? 
8il.  Phebe,  with  all  my  heart. 
Phe.  I'll  write  it  straight. 

The  matter's  in  my  head  and  in  my  heart. 
I  will  be  bitter  with  him  and  passing  short, 
Gro  with  me,  Silvius.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  FOUKTH 

SCENE  I. 

The  forest. 
Enter  Rosalind,  Celia,  and  Jaques 

Jaq.  I  prithee,  pretty  youth,  let   me  be  better 
acquainted  with  thee. 

Ros.  They  say  you  are  a  melancholy  fellow. 

Jeq.  I  am  so ;  I  do  love  it  better  than  laughing. 

Ros.  Those  that  are  in  extremity  of  either  ares 
abominable  fellows,  and  betray  themselves  to 
every  modern  censure  worse  than  drunkards. 

Jaq.  Why,  'tis  good  to  be  sad  and  say  nothing. 

Ros.  Why  then,  'tis  good  to  be  a  post. 

Jaq.  I   have  neither   the   scholar's   melancholy,  10 
which    is    emulation;    nor   the    musician's, 
which    is   fantastical;     nor    the    courtier's, 
which  is  proud;  nor  the  soldier's,  which  is 
ambitious;  nor  the  lawyer's,  which  is  politic; 
nor  the  lady's,  which  is  nice ;  nor  the  lover's,  la 
which  is  all  these:  but  it  is  a  melancholy  of 
mine   own,    compounded   of   many   simples, 
extracted  from  many  objects;  and  indeed  the 
*undry  contemplation  of  my  travels,  in  which 


ACT  IV.  So  i.]      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  129 

20         my  often   rumination  wraps   me  in  a  most 

humorous  sadness 

Eos.   A  traveller!     By  my  faith,  you  have  great 

reason  to  be  sad.     I  fear  you  have  sold  your 

own  lands  to  see  other  men's;  then,  to  have 

2b          seen  much,  and  to  have  nothing,  is  to  have 

rich  eyes  and  poor  hands. 
Jaq.  Yes,  I  have  gained  my  experience. 
Ros.  And  your  experience  makes  you  sad.     I  had 
rather  have  a  fool  to  make  me  merry  than 
so          experience  to  make  me  sad ;  and  to  travel  for 
it  too! 

Enter  Orlando. 

Orl.  Good-day  and  happiness,  dear  Eosalind! 
Jaq.  Nay,   then,    God  buy  you,   an  you  talk  ID 
blank  verse.  [Exit. 

35  Ros.  Farewell,  Monsieur  Traveller.  Look  you 
lisp  and  wear  strange  suits,  disable  all  the 
benefits  of  your  own  country,  be  out  of  love 
with  your  nativity,  and  almost  chide  God  for 
making  you  that  countenance  you  are,  or  I 
40  will  scarce  think  you  have  swam  in  a  gon- 
dola. Why,  how  now,  Orlando!  Where 
have  you  been  all  this  while?  You  a  lover ! 
An  you  serve  me  such  another  trick,  never 
come  in  my  sight  more. 
45  Orl.  My  fair  Eosalind,  I  come  within  an  hour  of 

my  promise. 

Ros.  Break  an  hour's  promise  in  love!     He  that 
will  divide  a  minute  into  a  thousand  parts. 


130  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT.  IV.  So.  i. 

and  break  but  a  part  of  the  thousandth  part 
of  a  minute  in  the  affairs  of  love,  it  may  be  so 
said  of  him  that  Cupid  hath  clapped  him  o' 
the  shoulder,   but    I'll    warrant   him   heart- 
whole. 

Orl.   Pardon  me,  dear  Kosalind. 

Ros.   Nay,  an  you  be  so  tardy,  come  no  more  in  55 
my  sight.     I  had  as  lief  be  wooed  of  a  snail. 

Orl.   Of  a  snail? 

Ros.  Ay,  of  a  snail;  for  though  he  comes  slowly, 
he  carries  his   house  on  his  head;  a  better 
jointure,  I  think,  than  you  make  a  woman.  GO 
Besides,  he  brings  his  destiny  with  him. 

Orl.  What's  that? 

Ros.  Why,  horns,  which  such  as  you  are  fain  to 
be   beholding   to   your   wives    for.     But    he 
comes  armed  in  his  fortune  and  prevents  the  65 
slander  of  his  wife. 

Orl.  Virtue  is  no  horn-maker;  and  my  Rosalind 
is  virtuous. 

Ros.  And  I  am  your  Eosalind. 

Gel.  It  pleases  him  to  call  you  so ;  but  he  hath  a  ** 
Eosalind  of  a  better  leer  than  you. 

Ros.  Come,  woo  me,  woo  me;  for  now  I  am  in  a 
holiday  humour  and  like  enough  to  consent. 
What  would  you  say  to  me  now,  an  I  were 
your  very  very  Eosalind?  75 

Orl.  I  would  kiss  before  I  spoke. 

Ros.  Nay,  you  were  better  speak  first ;  and  when 
you  were  gravelled  for  lack  of  matter,  you 


ACT  IV   Sc.  i.]      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  131 

might  take  occasion  to  kiss.  Very  good 
so  orators,  when  they  are  out,  they  will  spifc; 
and  for  lovers  lacking — God  warn  us! — 
matter,  the  cleanliest  shift  is  to  kiss. 

Orl.  How  if  the  kiss  be  denied? 

Ros.  Then  she  puts  you  to  entreaty  and  there 
85  begins  new  matter. 

Orl.  Who  could  be  out,  being  before  his  beloved 
mistress? 

Ros.  Marry,  that  should  you,  if  I  were  your 
mistress,  or  I  should  think  my  honesty  ranker 
90  than  my  wit. 

Orl.   What,  of  my  suit? 

Ros.  Not  out  of  your  apparel,  and  yet  out  of  your 
suit.  Am  not  I  your  Eosalind? 

Orl.  I  take  some  joy  to  say  you  are,  because  I 
95  would  be  talking  of  her. 

Ros.  Well,  in  her  person,  I  say  I  will  not  have 
you. 

Orl.  Then  in  mine  own  person  I  die. 

Ros.  No,  faith,  die  by  attorney.     The  poor  world 

100         is  almost  six  thousand  years  old,  and  in  all 

this  time  there  was  not  any  man  died  in  his 

own  person,  videlicet,  in  a  love-cause.     Troi- 

lus  had  his  brains  dashed  out  with  a  Grecian 

club ;  yet  he  did  what  he  could  to  die  before, 

J05         and    he    is    one    of    the   patterns   of  love. 

Leander,  he  would  have  lived  many  a  fair 

year,  though  Hero  had  turned  nun,  if  it  had 

not  been  for  a  hot  mid-summer  night;  for. 


132  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.       [ACT  IV.  Sc.  1 

good  youth,  he  went  but  forth  to  wash  him 
in  the  Hellespont  and  being  taken  with  the  no 
cramp  was  drowned;  and  the  foolish  chroni- 
clers of  that  age  found  it  was — Hero  of 
Sestos.  But  these  are  all  lies.  Men  have 
died  from  time  to  time  and  worms  have  eaten 
them,  but  not  for  love.  115 

Orl.  I  would  not  have  my  right  Eosalind  of  this 
mind;  for,  I  protest,- her  frown  might  kill  me. 

Ros.  By  this  hand,  it  will  not  kill  a  fly.     But 
come,  now  I  will  be  your  Eosalind  in  a  more 
coming-on  disposition,  and  ask  me  what  you  120 
will,  I  will  grant  it. 

Orl.  Then  love  me,  Eosalind. 

Ros.  Yes,  faith,  will  I,  Fridays  and  Saturdays 
and  all. 

Orl.  And  wilt  thou  have  me?  125 

Ros.   Ay,  and  twenty  such. 

Orl.  What  sayest  thou? 

Ros.  Are  you  not  good? 

Orl.  I  hope  so. 

Ros.  Why  then,  can  one  desire  too  much  of  aiso 
good  thing?     Come,  sister,  you  shall  be  the 
priest  and  marry  us.     Give  me  your  hand, 
Orlando.     What  do  you  say,  sister? 

Orl.   Pray  thee,  marry  us. 

Gel.  I  cannot  say  the  words.  135 

Ros.  You  must  begin,  "Will  you,  Orlando " 

Gel:  Go  to.     Will  you,  Orlando,  have  to  wife  this 
Eosalind? 


ACT  IV.  Sc.  1]      AS  ^OU  LIKE  IT.  133 

Orl  I  will. 
140  Ros.  Ay,  but  when? 

Orl.  Why  now;  as  fast  as  she  can  marry  us. 

Ros.  Then  you  must  say,  "I  take  thee,  Rosalind, 
for  wife." 

Orl.  I  take  thee,  Rosalind,  for  wife. 
146  Ros.  I  might  ask  you  for  your  commission ;  but  I 
do    take    thee,    Orlando,   for   my    husband. 
There's  a  girl  goes  before  the   priest;  and 
certainly  a  woman's  thought  runs  before  her 
actions. 
150  Orl.  So  do  all  thoughts ;  they  are  winged. 

Ros.  Now  tell  me  how  long  you  would  have  her 
after  you  have  possessed  her. 

Orl.  For  ever  and  a  day. 

Ros.  Say  "a  day,"  without  the  "ever."     No,  no, 

155          Orlando.     Men  are  April  when   they   woo, 

December  when  they  wed;  maids   are   May 

when  hhey  are  maids,  but  the  sky  changes 

when  they  are  wives.     I  will  be  more  jealous 

of  thee  than  a  Barbary  cock-pigeon  over  his 

teo         hen,  more  clamorous  than  a  parrot  against 

rain,  more  new-fangled  than  an  ape,  more 

giddy  in  my  desires  than  a  monkey.     I  will 

weep  for  nothing,  like  Diana  in  the  fountain, 

and  I  will  do  that  when  you  are  disposed  to 

165         be  merry;  I  will  laugh  like  a  hyen,  and  that 

when  thou  art  inclined  to  sleep. 

Orl.  But  will  my  Rosalind  do  so? 

Ros.  By  my  life,  she  will  do  as  I  do. 


134  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      iACT  IV.  So.  *, 


Orl.  0,  but  she  is  wise. 

Ros.  Or  else  she  could  not  have  the  wit  to  dorro 
this.  The  wiser,  the  waywarder.  Make  the 
doors  upon  a  woman's  wit  and  it  will  out  at 
the  casement;  shut  that  and  'twill  out  at  the 
key-hole;  stop  that,  'twill  fly  with  the  smoke 
out  at  the  chimney.  ITS 

Orl.  A  man  that  had  a  wife  with  such  a  wit,  he 
might  say,  "Wit,  whither  wilt?" 

Ros.  You  shall  never  take  her  without  her 
answer,  unless  you  take  her  without  her 
tongue.  O,  that  woman  that  cannot  make  iso 
her  fault  her  husband's  occasion,  let  her 
never  nurse  her  child  herself,  for  she  will 
breed  it  like  a  fool! 

Orl.  For  these  two  hours,  Eosalind,  I  will  leave 
thee.  185 

Ros.  Alas,    dear  love,    I   cannot   lack   thee   two 
hours  ! 

Orl.  I  must  attend  the  Duke  at  dinner.     By  two 
o'clock  I  will  be  with  thee  again. 

Ros.  Ay,  go  your  ways,  go  your  ways;  I  knewi90 
what  you  would  prove.  My  friends  told  me 
as  much,  and  I  thought  no  less.  That  flat- 
tering tongue  of  yours  won  me.  'Tis  but  one 
cast  away,  and  so,  come,  death  !  Two  o'clock 
is  your  hour?  195 

Orl.  Ay,  sweet  Eosalind. 

Ros.  By  my  troth,  and  in  good  earnest,  and  so 


ACT  IV.  Sc.  i.j     AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  135 

God  mend  me,  and  by  all  pretty  oaths  that 

are  not  dangerous,  if  you  break  one  jot  of 

aoo         your  promise  or  come   one   minute   behind 

your    hour,    I    will    think    you    the    most 

pathetical     break-promise,    and     the     most 

hollow  lover,  and  the  most  unworthy  of  her 

you  call  Eosalind,  that  may  be  chosen  out  of 

80s         the  gross  band  of  the  unfaithful;  therefore 

beware  my  censure  and  keep  your  promise. 
OrL  With   no  less   religion   than   if   thou   wert 

indeed  my  Eosalind;  so  adieu. 
Ros.  Well,  Time  is  the  old  justice  that  examines 
210         all  such  offenders,  and  let  Time  try.    Adieu. 

[Exit  Orlando. 

Cel.  You  have  simply  misused  our  sex  in  your 

love-prate.     We  must  have  your  doublet  and 

hose  plucked  over  your  head,  and  show  the 

world  what  the  bird  hath  done  to  her  own 

215         nest. 

Ros.  0  coz,  coz,  coz,  my  pretty  little  coz,  that 

thou  didst  know  how  many  fathom  deep  I  am 

in  love!     But   it   cannot  be    sounded.     My 

affection  hath  an  unknown  bottom,  like  the 

220         bay  of  Portugal. 

Cel.  Or  rather,  bottomless;  that  as  fast  as  you 

pour  affection  in,  it  runs  out. 

Ros.  No,    that   same  wicked   bastard  of  Venus 

that  was   begot   of    thought,    conceived    ol 

$25         spleen,    and    born   of    madness,    that  blind 

rascally  boy  that  abuses  every   one's   eyes 


136  AS  tfutf  LIKE  IT.     [ACT  IV.  So.  ii 

because  his  own  are  out,  let  him  be  judge 
how  deep  I  am  in  love.    I'll  tell  thee,  Aliena, 
I  cannot   be   out  of   the  sight  of  Orlando. 
I'll  go  find  a  shadow  and  sigh  till  he  come,  s 
Gel.  And  I'll  sleep.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

The  forest. 
Enter  Jaques,  Lords,  and  Foresters. 

Taq.  Which  is  he  that  killed  the  deer? 

d  Lord.  Sir,  it  was  I. 

J%q.  Let's   present    him   to   the    Duke,    like    a 
Eoman  conqueror;  and  it  would  do  well  to 
set   the  deer's  horns  upon  his  head,  for  as 
branch  of  victory.     Have  you  no  song,  for- 
ester, for  this  purpose? 

For.  Yes,  sir. 

Taq.  Sing  it.     'Tis  no  matter  how  it  be  in  tune, 
so  it  make  noise  enough.  10 

SONG. 

For.  What  shall  he  have  that  killed  the  deer? 
His  leather  skin  and  horns  to  wear. 
Then  sing  him  home. 

[The  rest  shall  bear  this  burden. 
Take  thou  no  scorn  to  wear  the  horn; 


ACT  IV.  Sc.  iii.]  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  131 

&  It  was  a  crest  ere  thou  wast  born; 

Thy  father's  father  wore  it, 

And  thy  father  bore  it. 
The  horn,  the  horn,  the  lusty  horn 
Is  not  a  thing  to  laugh  to  scorn.      [Exeunt. 


SCENE  III. 

The  forest. 
Enter  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Ros.  How    say  you   now?     Is  it  not   past  two 

o'clock?     And  here  much  Orlando ! 
CeL  1  warrant  you,  with  pure  love  and  troubled 
brain,  he  hath  ta'en  his  bow  and  arrows  and 
5         is   gone  forth — to  sleep.     Look,  who  comes 
here. 

Enter  Silvius, 

Sil.  My  errand  is  to  you,  fair  youth; 

My  gentle  Phebe  bid  me  give  you  this, 
I  know  not  the  contents ;  but,  as  I  guess 

10         By  the  stern  brow  and  waspish  action 

Which  she  did  use  as  she  was  writing  of  it?. 
It  bears  an  angry  tenour.     Pardon  me, 
I  am  but  as  a  guiltless  messenger. 
Ros.  Patience  herself  would  startle  at  this  letter 

ts         And  play  the  swaggerer.    Bear  this,  bear  all. 
She  says  I  am  not  fair,  that  I  lack  manners  9 


138  AS  YOU  LIKE  ITo    [ACT  IV.  So.  ill 

She  calls  me  proud,  and  that  she  could  not 

love  me, 

Were  man  as  rare  as  phoenix.     'Od's  my  will! 
Her  love  is  not  the  hare  that  I  do  hunt. 
Why  writes  she  so  to  me?     Well,  shepherd,  20 

well, 

This  is  a  letter  of  your  own  device. 
Sil.  No,  I  protest,  I  know  not  the  contents. 

Phebe  did  write  it. 

Ros.  Come,  come,  you  are  a  fool, 

And  turned  into  the  extremity  of  love. 
I  saw  her  hand;  she  has  a  leathern  hand,        25 
A  freestone-coloured  hand;  I  verily  did  think 
That  her  old  gloves  were  on,  but  'twas  her 

hands ; 
She  has  a  huswife's   hand;    but   that's  no 

matter. 

I  say  she  never  did  invent  this  letter; 
This  is  a  man's  invention  and  his  hand.  so 

Sil.  Sure,  it  is  hers. 

Ros.  Why,  'tis  a  boisterous  and  a  cruel  style, 
A  style  for  challengers;  why,  she  defies  me, 
Like  Turk  to   Christian.     Women's   gentle 

brain 
Could     not     drop     forth     such     giant-rude  35 

invention, 

Such  Ethiope  words,  blacker  in  their  effect 
Than  in  their  countenance.     Will  you  hear 

the  letter? 
Sil.  So  please  you,  for  I  never  heard  it  yet; 


ACT  IV.  So.  iii.]   AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  139 

Yet  heard  too  much  of  Phebe's  cruelty. 
wRos.  She   Phebes   me.     Mark    how    the    tyrant 


[Reads.]  "Art  thou  god  to  shepherd  turned, 
That  a  maiden's  heart  hath  burned?" 
Can  a  woman  rail  thus? 
8iL  Call  you  this  railing? 
Ros.  [Reads.] 
45  "Why,  thy  godhead  laid  apart, 

Warr'st  thou  with  a  woman's  heart?" 
Did  you  ever  hear  such  railing? 

"Whiles  the  eye  of  man  did  woo  me, 

That  co  aid  do  no  vengeance  to  me." 
so         Meaning  me  a  beast. 

"If  the  scorn  of  your  bright  eyne 
Have  power  to  raise  such  love  in  mine, 
Alack,  in  me  what  strange  effect 
Would  they  work  in  mild  aspect! 
»  Whiles  you  chid  me,  I  did  love  ; 

How  then  might  your  prayers  move! 
He  that  brings  this  love  to  thee 
Little  knows  this  love  in  me; 
And  by  him  seal  up  thy  mind, 
«o  Whether  that  thy  youth  and  kind 

Will  the  faithful  offer  take 
Of  me  and  all  that  I  can  make; 
Or  else  by  him  my  love  deny, 
And  then  I'll  study  how  to  die/' 
65  SiL  Call  you  this  chiding? 
Cel.  Alas,  poor  shepherd! 


140  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.    [ACT  IV.  So.  iii. 

Ros.  Do  yon  pity  him?  No,  he  deserves  no  pity. 
Wilt  thou  love  such  a  woman?  What,  to 
make  thee  an  instrument  and  play  false 
strains  upon  thee!  Not  to  be  endured! TO 
Well,  go  your  way  to  her — for  I  see  love  hath 
made  thee  a  tame  snake — and  say  this  to 
her:  that  if  she  loves  me,  I  charge  her  to 
love  thee;  if  she  will  not,  I  will  never  have 
her  unless  thou  entreat  for  her.  If  you  be  a  75 
true  lover,  hence,  and  not  a  word;  for  here 
comes  more  company.  [Exit  Silvius. 

Enter  Oliver. 

OIL  Good  morrow,  fair  ones.    Pray  you,  if  you 

know, 

Where  in  the  purlieus  of  this  forest  stands 
A  sheep-cote  fenced  about  with  olive-trees?  so 

Gel.  West  of  this  place,  down  in  the  neighbour 

bottom. 

The  rank  of  osiers  by  the  murmuring  stream 
Left  on  your  right  hand  brings  you  to  the 

place. 

But  at  this  hour  the  house  doth  keep  itself; 
There's  none  within.  85 

Oil.  If  that  an  eye  may  profit  by  a  tongue, 
Then  should  I  know  you  by  description; 
Such  garments  and  such  years.    "The  boy  is 

fair, 

Of  female  favour,  and  bestows  himself 
Like  a  ripe  sister;  the  woman  low,  90 

And  brown er  than  her  brother. ' '    Are  not  you 


ACT  IV.  Sc.  iii  ]  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  141 

The  owner  of  the  house  I  did  enquire  for? 
Cel.  It  is  no  boast,  being  asked,  to  say  we  are, 
Oli.  Orlando  doth  commend  him  to  you  both, 
95         And  to  that  youth  he  calls  his  Rosalind 

He  sends  this  bloody  napkin.     Are  you  he? 

Ros.  I  am.     What  mast  we  understand  by  this? 

Oli.  Some  of  my  shame,  if  you  will  know  of  me 

What   man  I  am,  and  how,  and  why,   and 

where 
too         This  handkercher  was  stained. 

Cel.  I  pray  you,  tell  it. 

Oli.  When  last  the  young  Orlando  parted  from 

you 

He  left  a  promise  to  return  again 
Within   an   hour;   and   pacing   through  the 

forest, 

Chewing  the  food  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy, 
10&         Lo,  what  bef el !     He  threw  his  eye  aside, 
And  mark  what  object  did  present  itself. 
Under  an  oak,  whose  boughs  were  mossed 

with  age 

And  high  top  bald  with  dry  antiquity, 
A  wretched  ragged  man,  o'ergrown  with  hair, 
lie         Lay  sleeping  on  his  back.     About  his  neck 

A  green  and  gilded  snake  had  wreathed  itself, 
Who     with     her    head    nimble    in    threats 

approached 

The  opening  of  his  mouth ;  but  suddenly, 
Seeing  Orlando,  it  unlinked  itself, 
ite         And  with  indented  glides  did  slip  away 


H2  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.    [ACT  IV.  So.  iil 

Into  a  bush;  under  which  bush's  shade 

A  lioness,  with  adders  all  drawn  dry, 

Lay  couching,  head  on  ground,  with  catlike 

watch, 
When  that  the  sleeping  man  should  stir;  for 

'tis 

The  royal  disposition  of  that  beast  120 

To  prey  on  nothing  that  doth  seem  as  dead. 
This  seen,  Orlando  did  approach  the  man 
And   found   it   was   his    brother,    his    elder 
brother. 

Cei.  0,  I  have   heard  him  speak   of  that   same 

brother ; 

And  he  did  render  him  the  most  unnatural  125 
That  lived  amongst  men. 

Oli.  And  well  he  might  so  do, 

For  well  I  know  he  was  unnatural. 

Ros.  But,  to  Orlando.     Did  he  leave  him  there, 
Food  to  the  sucked  and  hungry  lioness? 

Oli.  Twice  did  he  turn  his  back  and  purposed  so;iso 
But  kindness,  nobler  ever  than  revenge, 
And  nature,  stronger  than  his  just  occasion, 
Made  him  give  battle  to  the  lioness, 
Who    quickly    fell    before    him;    in   which 

hurtling 
From  miserable  slumber  I  awaked.  iss 

Cel.  Are  you  his  brother? 

Ros.  Was't  you  he  rescued? 

CeL  Was't  you  that-  did  so  oft  contrive  to  kill 
him! 


ACT  IV.  Sc.  iii.]   AS  YOb  LIKE  IT. 

Oli.  'Twas  I;  but  'tis  not  I.     I  do  not  shame 

To  tell  you  what  I  was,  since  my  conversion 
MO         So  sweetly  tastes,  being  the  thing  I  am. 
Ros.  But,  for  the  bloody  napkin? 
Oli.  By  and  by. 

When  from  the  first  to  last  betwixt  us  two 
Tears   our   recountments   had    most  kindly 

bathed, 

As  how  I  came  into  that  desert  place; 
M6         In  brief,  he  led  me  to  the  gentle  Duke, 

Who  gave  me  fresh  array  and  entertainment, 
Committing  me  unto  my  brother's  love; 
Who  led  me  instantly  unto  his  cave, 
There  stripped  himself,  and  here  upon  his 

arm 
ISO         The  lioness  had  torn  some  flesh  away, 

Which  all  this  while  had  bled;  and  now  he 

fainted 

And  cried,  in  fainting,  upon  Rosalind. 
Brief,  I  recovered  him,  bound  up  his  wound; 
And,  after  some  small  space,  being  strong  at 

heart, 
155         He  sent  me  hither,  stranger  as  I  am, 

To  tell  this  story,  that  you  might  excuse 
His  broken  promise,  and  to  give  this  napkin, 
Dyed  in  his  blood,  unto  the  shepherd  youth 
That  he  in  sport  doth  call  his  Rosalind, 

[Rosalind  swoons. 

L  Why,    how    now,    Ganymede?    sweet  Gany- 
mede! 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.     [ ACT  IV.  Sc.  iii 

OK.  Many  will  swoon  when  they  do  look  on  blood* 

Gel.  There  is  more  in  it.     Cousin  Ganymede! 

Oli.  Look,  he  recovers. 

Ros.  I  would  I  were  at  home. 

Gel.  We'll  lead  you  thither. 

I  pray  you,  will  you  take  him  by  the  arm?       iea 
Oli.  Be  of  good  cheer,  youth.    You  a  man!  You 

lack  a  man's  heart. 
Ros.  I  do  so,  I  confess  it.     Ah,  sirrah,  a  body 

would  think  this  was  well  counterfeited!     I 

pray  you,  tell  your  brother  how  well  I  coun-  m 

terf  eited.     Heigh-ho ! 
OH.  This  was  not  counterfeit.    There  is  too  great 

testimony  in  your  complexion  that  it  was  a 

passion  of  earnest. 

Ros.  Counterfeit,  I  assure  you.  175 

Oli.  Well  then,  take  a  good  heart  and  counterfeit 

to  be  a  man. 
Ros.   So  I  do.     But,  i'  faith,  I  should  have  been 

a  woman  by  right. 
Gel.  Come,  you  look  paler  and  paler.     Pray  you,  iso 

draw  homewards.     Good  sir,  go  with  us. 
Oli.  That  will  I,  for  I  must  bear  answer  back 

How  you  excuse  my  brother,  Kosalind. 
Ros.  I  shall  devise  something;  but,  I  pray  you, 

commend    my  counterfeiting   to  him.     Willisa 

you  go?  [Exeunt* 


ACT  FIFTH. 

SCENE  I. 

The  forest. 
Enter  Touchstone  and  Audrey. 

Touch.  We  shall  find  a  time,  Audrey;  patience, 

gentle  Audrey. 
And.  Faith,  the  priest  was  good  enough,  for  all 

the  old  gentleman's  saying. 

a  Touch.  A   most  wicked    Sir   Oliver,    Audrey,    a 
most  vile  Martext.     But,  Audrey,  there  is  a 
youth  here  in  the  forest  lays  claim  to  you. 
Aud.  Ay,  I  know  who  'tis ;  he  hath  no  interest  in 
me  in  the  world.     Here  comes  the  man  you 
10         mean. 

Touch.  It  is  meat  and  drink  to  me  to  see  a  clown. 
By  my  troth,  we  that  have  good  wits  have 
much  to  answer  for ;  we  shall  be  flouting ;  we 
cannot  hold. 

Enter  William. 
15  Will.  Good  even,  Audrey. 
Aud.  God  ye  good  even,  William. 
Will.  And  good  even  to  you,  sir. 
Touch.  Good  even,    gentle    friend.     Cover    thy 

145 


146  A8  iOU   L1KK  IT.         ^Aci  V    So  I 


head,    cover    thy   head;    nay,    prithee,    be 
covered.     How  old  are  you,  friend?  20 

Witt.  Five  and  twenty,  sir. 

Touch.  A  ripe  age.     Is  thy  name  William? 

Witt.  William,  sir. 

Touch.  A  fair  name.  Was't  born  i'  the  forest  here? 

Witt.  Ay,  sir,  I  thank  God.  25 

Touch.  "Thank  God"  —  a  good  answer.    Art  rich? 

Will.  Faith,  sir,  so  so. 

To»icli.  "So  so"  is  good,  very  good,  very  excellent 
good;  and  yet  it  is  not;  it  is  but  so  so.  Art 
thou  wise?  so 

Will.  Ay,  sir,  I  have  a  pretty  wit. 

Touch.  Why,  thou  sayest  well.  I  do  now  remem- 
ber a  saying,  "The  fool  doth  think  he  is 
wise,  but  the  wise  man  knows  himself  to  be 
a  fool."  The  heathen  philosopher,  when  he  38 
had  a  desire  to  eat  a  grape,  would  open  his 
lips  when  he  put  it  into  his  mouth;  meaning 
thereby  that  grapes  were  made  to  eat  and  lips 
to  open.  You  do  love  this  maid? 

Will.  I  do,  sir.  40 

Touch.  Give  me  your  hand.     Art  thou  learned? 

Witt.  No,  sir. 

Touch.  Then  learn  this  of  me:  to  have,  is  to 
have  ;  for  it  is  a  figure  in  rhetoric  that  drink, 
being  poured  out  of  a  cup  into  a  glass,  by  « 
filling  the  one  doth  empty  the  other;  for  all 
your  writers  do  consent  that  ijpse  is  lie  :  now. 
you  are  not  ipse,  for  I  am  h**- 


ACT  V-  So.  ii.J      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT  U7 

Will.  Which  he,  sir? 

lo  Touch.  He,   sir,   that  must   marry  this   woman. 
Therefore,  you  clown,  abandon, — which  is  in 
the  vulgar  leave — the  society, — which  in  the 
boorish  is  company — of  this  female, — which 
in  the  common  is  woman ;  which  together  is, 
55         abandon  the  society  of  this  female;  or,  clown, 
thou  perishest;  or,  to  thy  better  understand- 
ing, diest;  or,  to  wit,  I  kill  thee,  make  thee 
away,  translate  thy  life  into  death,  thy  liberty 
into  bondage.     I  will  deal  in  poison  with  thee, 
ao         or  in  bastinado,  or  in  steel ;  I  will  bandy  with 
thee   in   faction;  I  will   o'er-run   thee  with 
policy;  I  will  kill  thee  a  hundred  and  fifty 
ways:  therefore  tremble,  and  depart, 
Aud.  Do,  good  William. 
85  Will.  God  rest  you  merry,  sir.  [Exit. 

Enter  Corin. 
Cor.  Our  master  and  mistress  seeks  you.     Come, 

away,  away ! 

Touch.  Trip,  Audrey!  trip,  Audrey!     I  attend,  I 
attend.  [Exeunt. 

SQENE  IT, 

TJie  forest. 
Enter  Orlando  and  Oliver. 

Orl.  Is't  possible  that  on  so  little  acquaintance 
you  should  like  her?     That  but  seeing  yo& 


148  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT  V.  So.  it 

should  love  her?  And  loving  woo?  And, 
wooing,  she  should  grant?  And  will  you 
persever  to  enjoy  her?  & 

Oli.  N either  c&ll  the  giddiness  of  it  in  question, 
the  poverty  of  her,  the  small  acquaintance, 
my  sudden  wooing,  nor  [her]  sudden  con- 
senting; hut  say  with  me,  I  love  Aliena;  say 
with  her  that  she  loves  me;  consent  withw 
both  that  we  may  enjay  each  other.  It  shall 
be  to  your  good;  for  my  father's  house  and 
all  the  revenue  that  was  old  Sir  Eoland's 
will  I  estate  upon  you,  and  here  live  and  die 
a  shepherd.  18 

Orl.  You  have  my  consent.  Let  your  wedding 
be  to-morrow;  thither  will  I  invite  the  Duke 
and  all  's  contented  followers.  Go  you  and 
prepare  Aliena;  for  look  you,  here  comes  my 
Rosalind,  2 

Enter  Rosalind. 

Ros.  God  save  you,  brother. 

OH.  And  you,  fair  sister.  [Exit. 

Ros.  0,  my  dear  Orlando,  how  it  grieves  me  to 
see  thee  wear  thy  heart  in  a  scarf! 

Orl.  It  is  my  arm. 

Eos.  I  thought  thy  heart  had  been  wounded  with 
the  claws  of  a  lion. 

Orl.  Wounded  it  is,  but  with  the  eyes  of  a  lady. 

Ros.  Did  your  brother  tell  you  how  I  counter- 
feited to  swoon  when  he   showed   me 
handkercher? 


ACT  V.  So.  ii.]     AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 

Orl.  Ay,  and  greater  wonders  than  that. 
Bos.  0,  I  know  where  you  are.     Nay,  'tis  true. 
There  was  never  any  thing  so  sudden  but  the 

»  fight  of  two  rams,  and  Caesar's  thrasonical 
brag  of  "I  came,  saw,  and  overcame";  for 
your  brother  and  my  sister  no  sooner  met  but 
they  looked;  no  sooner  looked  but  they 
loved;  no  sooner  loved  but  they  sighed;  no 

«  sooner  sighed  but  they  asked  one  another  the 
reason;  no  sooner  knew  the  reason  but  they 
sought  the  remedy;  and  in  these  degrees 
have  they  made  a  pair  of  stairs  to  marriage 
which  they  will  climb  incontinent  .  .  .  ; 

«5         they  are  in  the  very  wrath  of  love  and  the^ 

will  together;  clubs  cannot  part  them. 
Orl.  They  shall  be  married  to-morrow,  and  I  will 
bid  the  Duke  to  the  nuptial.     But,  0,  how 
bitter   a  thing  it  is  to  look  into  happiness 

*o  through  another  man's  eyes!  By  so  much 
the  more  shall  I  to-morrow  be  at  the  height 
of  heart-heaviness,  by  how  much  I  shall  think 
my  brother  happy  in  having  what  he  wishes 
for. 

65  Ros.  Why  then,  to-morrow  I  cannot  serve  your 

turn  for  Eosalind? 

Orl.  I  can  live  no  longer  by  thinking. 
Ro8.  I  will  weary  you  then  no  longer  with  idle 
talking.     Know  of  me  then,  for  now  I  speak 

ao  to  some  purpose,  that  I  know  yon  are  a  gen- 
tleman of  good  conceit.  I  speak  not  this 


150  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT  V.  Sa  ii 

that  you  should  bear  a  good  opinion  of  my 
knowledge,  insomuch  I  say  I  know  you  are; 
neither  do  I  labour  for  a  greater  esteem  than 
may  in  some  little  measure  draw  a  belief  from  & 
you,  to  do  yourself  good  and  not  to  grace  me. 
Believe  then,  if  you  please,  that  I  can  do 
strange  things.  I  have,  since  I  was  three 
years  old,  conversed  with  a  magician,  most 
profound  in  his  art  and  yet  not  damnable.  TO 
If  you  do  love  Rosalind  so  near  the  heart  as 
your  gesture  cries  it  out,  when  your  brother 
marries  Aliena,  shall  you  marry  her.  I  know 
into  what  straits  of  fortune  she  is  driven ;  and 
it  is  not  impossible  to  me,  if  it  appear  not » 
inconvenient  to  you,  to  set  her  before  your 
eyes  to-morrow  human  as  she  is  and  without 
any  danger. 

OrL  Speakest  thou  in  sober  meanings? 

Ros.  By  my  life,   I  do;  which  I  tender  dearly, so 
though    I    say    I  am    a   magician.     There- 
fore, put  you  in  your  best  array;  bid  your 
friends ;  for  if  you  will  be  married  to-morrow, 
you  shall;  and  to  Rosalind,  if  you  will. 

Enter  Silvius  and  Phebe. 
Look,  here  comes  a  lover  of  mine  and  a  lover  a 
of  hers. 

Phe.  Youth,  you  have  done  me  much  ungentle- 
ness, 
To  show  the  letter  that  I  writ  to  you. 

ttos.  1  care  not  if  I  have.     It  is  my  study 


ACT  V.  So.  ii.]      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  151 

tt         To  seem  despiteful  and  ungentle  to  you. 

You  are  there  followed  by  a  faithful  shepherd. 

Look  upon  him,  love  him.    He  worships  you. 

Phe.  Good  shepherd,  tell  this  youth  what  'tis  to 

love. 

SiL  It  is  to  be. all  made  of  sighs  and  tears; 
95         And  so  am  I  for  Phebe. 
Phe.  And  I  for  Ganymede. 
OrL  And  I  for  Eosalind. 
Ros.  And  I  for  no  woman. 
SiL  It  is  to  be  all  made  of  faith  and  service; 
100         And  so  am  I  for  Phebe. 
Phe.  And  I  for  Ganymede. 
OrL  And  I  for  Rosalind. 
Ros.  And  I  for  no  woman. 
SiL  It  is  to  be  all  made  of  fantasy. 
405         All  made  of  passion,  and  all  made  of  wishep 
All  adoration,  duty,  and  observance, 
All  humbleness,  all  patience,  and  impatienco. 
All  purity,  all  trial,  all  observance; 
And  so  am  I  for  Phebe. 
no  Phe.  And  so  am  I  for  Ganymede. 
OrL  And  so  am  I  for  Eosalind. 
Ros.  And  so  am  I  for  no  woman. 
Phe.  If  this  be  so,  why  blame  you  me  to  love  you? 
SiL  If  this  be  so,  why  blame  you  me  to  love  you? 
115  OrL  If  this  be  so,  why  blame  you  me  to  love  your 
Ros.  Why  do  yon  speak  too,  "Why  blame  you  me 

to  love  you?" 
OrL  To  her  that  is  not  here,  nor  doth  not  hear* 


/52  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.    [ACT  V.  So.  iii. 

Ros.  Pray  you,  no  more  of  this;  'tis  like  the 
howling  of  Irish  wolves  against  the   moon.  ia 
[  To  Sil]  I  will  help  you,  if  I  can.   [  To  Phe.] 
I   would  love   you,  if  I  could.     To-morrow 
meet  me   all   together.     [To   Phe.]   I  will 
marry  you,  if  ever  I  marry  woman,  and  I'll 
be  married  to-morrow.      [To  Or/.]  I  will  sat- 12* 
isfy  you,    if  ever  I  satisfied  man,  and   you 
shall  be  married  to-morrow.     [  To  Sil.  ]  I  will 
content  you,  if  what   pleases  you  contents 
you,   and  you  snail  be  married  to-morrow. 
[To    OrL]    As    you    love   Eosalind,   meet,  iso 
[  To  Sil.]  As  you  love  Phebe,  meet.     And  as 
I  love  no  woman,  I'll  meet.     So,  fare  you 
well.     I  have  left  you  commands. 

Si!.  I'll  not  fail,  if  I  live. 

Phe.  Nor  I.  ias 

OrL  Nor  I.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  III, 

TJie  forest. 
Enter  Touchstone  and  Audrey. 

Touch.  To-morrow   is   the   joyful   day,    Audrey; 

to-morrow  will  we  be  married. 
dud.  I  do  desire  it  with  all  my  heart;  and  I  hope 

it  is  no  dishonest  desire  to  desire  to  be  a 


ACT  V.  So.  iii.]    AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  153 

6         woman  of  the  world.    Here  come  two  of  the 
banished  Duke's  pages. 

Enter  two  Pages. 

First  Page.  Well  met,  honest  gentleman, 
Touch.  By  my  troth,  well  met.     Come,  sit,  sit, 

and  a  song. 

10  Sec.  Page.  We  are  for  yon.     Sit  i'  the  middle. 
First  Page.  Shall  we  clap  into  't  ronndly,  without 
hawking  or  spitting  or  saying  we  are  hoarse, 
which  are  the  only  prologues  to  a  bad  voice? 
Sec.  Page.  I'  faith,  i'  faith;  and  both  in  a  tune, 
is         like  two  gipsies  on  a  horse. 

SOKG. 
i 

It  was  a  lover  and  his  lass, 

With  a  hey,  and  a  ho,  and  a  hey  nonino, 
That  o'er  the  green  corn-field  did  pass 
In  the  spring  time,  the  only  pretty  ring 

time, 

«o         When  birds  do  sing,  hey  ding  a  ding,  ding; 
Sweet  lovers  love  the  spring. 

Between  the  acres  of  the  rye, 

With  a  hey,  and  a  ho,  and  a  hey  nonino, 
These  pretty  country  folks  would  lie, 
*  In  spring  time,  &c. 

This  carol  they  began  that  hour, 

With  a  hey,  and  a  ho,  and  a  hey  nonino, 

How  that  a  life  was  but  a  flower 
In  spring  time,  &c. 


*54  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT,     [ACT  V.  Be.  to 

And  therefore  take  the  present  time,  sc 

With  a  hey,  and  a  ho,  and  a  hey  nonino; 

For  love  is  crowned  with  the  prime 
In  spring  time,  &c. 

Touch.  Truly,   young  gentlemen,   though  there 
was  no  great  matter  in  the  ditty,  yet  the  note  85 
was  very  untuneable. 

First  Page.  You  are    deceived,    sir.     We    kept 
time,  we  lost  not  our  time. 

Touch.  By  my  troth,  yes;  I  count  it  but  time 
lost  to  hear  such  a  foolish  song.     God  buy40 
you — and   God   mend  your   voices!     Come, 
Audrey.  \Exeunt 


SCENE  IV. 

The  forest. 

Enter   Duke  senior,   Amiens,  Jaques,   Orlando, 
Oliver,  and  Celia. 

Duke  S.  Dost  thou  believe,  Orlando,  that  the  boy 

Can  do  all  this  that  he  hath  promised? 
Orl.  I  sometimes  do  believe,  and  sometimes  do 

not; 
As  those  that  fear  they  hope,  and  know  they 

fear. 

Enter  Rosalind,  Silvius,  and  Phele. 
Ros.  Patience  once  more,  whiles  our  compact  is« 
urged  - 


ACT  V.  8c.  iv,]   AS  YOU    LIKE  JT.  155 

You  say,  if  I  bring  in  your  Rosalind, 
You  will  bestow  her  on  Orlando  here? 
Duke  8.  That  would  I,  had  I  kingdoms  to  give 

with  her. 
Eos.  And  you   say,  you  will  have  her,  when  1 

bring  her. 

10  Orl.  That  would  I,  were  I  of  all  kingdoms  king. 
Ros.  You  say,  you'll  marry  me,  if  I  be  willing? 
Plie.  That  will  I  should  I  die  the  hour  after. 
Ros.  But  if  you  do  refuse  to  marry  me, 

You'll   give  yourself  to  this   most   faithful 

shepherd? 

to  Plie.  So  is  the  bargain. 

Ros.  You  say,  that  you'll  have  Phebe,  if  she  will? 
Sil.  Though  to  have  her  and  death  were  both  one 

thing. 
Ros.  I  have   promised  to  make  all  this  matter 

even. 
Keep  you  your  word,  0  Duke,  to  give  your 

daughter ; 

so         You  yours,  Orlando,  to  receive  his  daughter; 
Keep  your  word,  Phebe,  that  you'll  marry 

me, 

Or  else  refusing  me,  to  wed  this  shepherd; 
Keep  your  word,  Silvius,  that  you'll  marry 

her, 

If  she  refuse  me;  and  from  hence  I  go, 
*&         To  make  these  doubts  all  even. 

[Exeunt  Rosalind  and  Celia* 
Duke  S.  I  do  remember  in  this  shepherd  boy 


*56  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.    [Aci  V.  So.  iv. 

Some  lively  touches  of  my  daughter's  favour. 

Orl.  My  lord,  the  first  time  that  I  ever  saw  him 
Methought  he  was  a  brother  to  your  daughter. 
But,  my  good  lord,  this  boy  is  forest-born,     so 
And  hath  been  tutored  in  the  rudiments 
Of  many  desperate  studies  by  his  uncle, 
Whom  he  reports  to  be  a  great  magician, 
Obscured  in  the  circle  of  this  forest. 
Enter  Touchstone  and  Audrey. 

Jaq.  There  is,  sure,  another  flood  toward,   and  85 
these  couples  are  coming  to  the  ark.     Here 
comes  a  pair  of  very  strange  beasts,  which  in 
all  tongues  are  called  fools. 

Touch.  Salutation  and  greeting  to  you  all ' 

Jaq.  Good  my  lord,  bid  him  welcome.     This  is*) 
the  motley -minded  gentleman  that  I  have  so 
often  met  in  the  forest.     He  hath  been  a 
courtier,  he  swears. 

Touch.  If  any  man  doubt  that,  let  him  put  me  to 
my  purgation.  I  have  trod  a  measure;  145 
have  flattered  a  lady;  I  have  been  politic 
with  my  friend,  smooth  with  mine  enemy ;  1 
have  undone  three  tailors ;  I  have  had  four 
quarrels,  and  like  to  have  fought  one. 

Jaq.  And  how  was  that  ta'en  up?  so 

Touch.  Faith,  we  met,  and  found  the  quarrel  was 
ipon  the  seventh  cause. 

Jaq.  How  seventh  cause?     Good   my   lord,  like 
this  fellow. 

Duke  S.  I  like  him  very  well.  <* 


ACT  V.  So.  iv.]      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  157 

Touch.  God  'ild  you,  sir;  I  desire  you  of  the  like. 
I  press  in  here,  sir,  amongst  the  rest  of  the 
country  copulatives,  to  swear  and  to  forswear, 
according  as  marriage  binds  and  blood  breaks. 

60  A  poor  virgin,  sir,  an  ill-favoured  thing,  sir, 
but  mine  own.  A  poor  humour  of  mine,  sir, 
to  take  that  that  no  man  else  will.  EicK 
honesty  dwells  like  a  miser,  sir,  in  a  poor 
house;  as  your  pearl  in  yonr  foul  oyster. 

GoDuJce  8.  By  my  faith,  he  is  very  swift  and  senten- 
tious. 
Touch.  According  to  the  fool's  bolt,  sir,  and  such 

dulcet  diseases. 
Jaq.   But,  for  the  seventh  cause, — how  did  you 

70         find  the  quarrel  on  the  seventh  cause? 

Touch.  Upon  a  lie  seven  times  removed: — bear 
your  body  more  seeming,  Audrey — as  thus, 
sir.  I  did  dislike  the  cut  of  a  certain 
courtier's  beard.  He  sent  me  word,  if  I  said 

75  his  beard  was  not  cut  well,  he  was  in  the 
mind  it  was:  this  is  called  the  Retort 
Courteous.  If  I  sent  him  word  again  "it 
was  not  well  cut,"  he  would  send  me  word, 
he  cut  it  to  please  himself:  this  is  called  the 

so  Quip  Modest.  If  again  "it  was  not  well 
cut, "he  disabled  my  judgment:  this  is  called 
the  Reply  Churlish.  If  again  "it  was  not 
well  cut,"  he  would  answer,  I  spake  not 
true:  this  is  called  the  Reproof  Valiant.  If 

35         again  "it  was  not  well  cut,"  he  would  say,  I 


158  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.      [ACT  V.  So.  iv. 

lied :  this  is  called  the  Countercheck  Quarrel- 
some: and  so  to  the  Lie  Circumstantial  and 
the  Lie  Direct. 

Jaq.  And  how  oft  did  you  say  his  beard  was  not 
well  cut?  90 

Touch.  I  durst  go  no  further  than  the  Lie  Cir- 
cumstantial, nor  he  durst  not  give  me  the  Lie 
Direct;  and  so  we  measured  swords  and 
parted. 

Jaq.  Can  you  nominate  in  ordsr  now  the  degrees  95 
of  the  lie? 

Touch.  0  sir,  we  quarrel  in  print,  by  the  book, 
as  you  have  books  for  good  manners.  I.  will 
name  you  the  degrees.  The  first,  the  Eetort 
Courteous ;  the  second,  the  Quip  Modest ;  the  100 
third,  the  Reply  Churlish;  the  fourth,  the 
Reproof  Valiant;  the  fifth,  the  Countercheck 
Quarrelsome;  the  sixth,  the  Lie  with  Cir- 
cumstance; the  seventh,  the  Lie  Direct.  All 
these  you  may  avoid  but  the  Lie  Direct;  and  105 
you  may  avoid  that  too,  with  an  If.  I  knew 
when  seven  justices  could  not  take  up  a 
quarrel,  but  when  the  parties  were  met 
themselves,  one  of  them  thought  but  of  an 
If,  as,  "If  you  said  so,  then  I  said  so";  and  no 
they  shook  hands  and  swore  brothers.  Your 
If  is  the  only  peace-maker;  much  virtue  in  If. 

Jaq.  Is  not  this  a  rare  fellow,  my  lord?  He's  as 
good  at  any  thing,  and  yet  a  fool. 

Duke  S.  He  uses  his  folly  like  a  stalking-horse  115 


ACT  V.  Sc.  iv.  j      AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 

and  under  the  presentation  of  that  he  shoots 
his  wit. 

Enter  Hymen,  Rosalind,  and  Celia. 

[Still  Music, 
ffym.  Then  is  there  mirth  in  heaven, 

When  earthly  things  made  even 
120  Atone  together. 

Good  Duke,  receive  thy  daughter. 
Hyrnen  from  heaven  brought  her, 

Yea,  brought  her  hither, 
That  thou  mightst  join  her  hand  with  his 
125         Whose  heart  within  his  bosom  is. 

Eos.    [To  the  Duke.']  To  you  I  give  myself,  for  I 

am  yours. 

[To  Orl.]  To  you  I  give  myself,  for  I  am  yours. 
Duke  S.  If  there  be  truth  in  sight,  you  are  my 

daughter. 
Orl.  If   there   be  truth    in    sight,   you   are    my 

Kosalind. 

iso  Plie.  If  sight  and  shape  be  true, 

Why  then,  my  love  adieu ! 
Eos.  I'll  have  no  father,  if  you  be  not  he; 
I'll  have  no  husband,  if  you  be  not  he; 
Nor  ne'er  wed  woman,  if  you  be  not  she. 
«35  Hym.       Peace,  ho !  I  bar  confusion. 
'Tis  I  must  make  conclusion 

Of  these  most  strange  events. 
Here's  eight  that  must  take  hands 
To  join  in  Hymen's  bands, 
£40  If  truth  holds  true  contents. 


160  AS  YOU  LIKE  11.       [ACT  V.  So.  iv. 

You  and  you  no  cross  shall  part ; 

You  and  you  are  heart  in  heart ; 

You  to  his  love  must  accord, 

Or  have  a  woman  to  your  lord ; 

You  and  you  are  sure  together,  I4b 

As  the  winter  to  foul  weather. 

Whiles  a  wedlock-hymn  we  sing, 

Feed  yourselves  with  questioning; 

That  reason  wonder  may  diminish, 

How  thus  we  met,  and  these  things  finish.  150 

SONG. 

Wedding  is  great  Juno's  crown 
0  blessed  bond  of  board  and  bed! 

'Tis  Hymen  peoples  every  town ; 
High  wedlock  then  be  honoured. 

Honour,  high  honour,  and  renown,  155 

To  Hymen,  god  of  every  town ! 

Duke  S.  0  my  dear  niece,  welcome  thou  art  to 

me! 

Even  daughter,  welcome  in  no  less  degree. 
Plie.  I  will  not  eat  my  word,  now  thou  art  mi  ne ; 
Thy  faith  my  fancy  to  thee  doth  combine.       100 

Enter  Jaques  de  Boys. 
Taq.  de  B.  Let  me  have  audience  for  a  word  or 

two. 

I  am  the  second  son  of  old  Sir  Roland, 
That  bring  these  tidings  to  this  fair  assembly. 
Duke  Frederick,  hearing  how  that  every  day 


ACT  V.  Sc.  iv.]     AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  161 

165         Men  of  great  worth  resorted  to  this  forest, 
Addressed  a  mighty  power,  which  were  on  foot, 
In  his  own  conduct,  purposely  to  take 
His  brother  here  and  put  him  to  the  sword; 
And  to  the  skirts  of  this  wild  wood  he  came, 

170         Where  meeting  with  an  old  religious  man, 

After  some  question  with  him,  was  converted 
Both  from  his  enterprise  and  from  the  world; 
His  crown  bequeathing  to  his  banished 

brother, 
And  all  their  lands  restored  to  them  again 

175         That  were  with  him  exiled.    This  to  be  true, 

I  do  engage  my  life. 

Diike  S.  Welcome,  young  man; 

Thou  offer'st  fairly  to  thy  brothers'  wedding: 
To  one  his  lands  withheld;  and  to  the  other 
A  land  itself  at  large,  a  potent  dukedom. 

iso         First,  in  this  forest  let  us  do  those  ends 

That  here  were  well  begun  and  well  begot ; 
And  after,  every  of  this  happy  number, 
That  have  endured  shrewd  days  and  nights 

with  us, 
Shall  share  the  good  of  our  returned  fortune, 

185         According  to  the  measure  of  their  states. 
Meantime,  forget  this  new-fallen  dignity, 
And  fall  into  our  rustic  revelry. 
Play,   music!     And  you,  brides  and  bride- 
grooms all, 

With  measure  heaped  in  joy,  to  the  measures 
ft  fall. 


162  AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.     [ACT  V.  So.  iv. 

Jaq.  Sir,    by   your   patience.     If    I    heard    you  190 

rightly, 

The  Duke  hath  put  on  a  religious  life 
And  thrown  into  neglect  the  pompous  court? 
Jaq.  de  B.  He  hath. 
Jaq.  To  him  will  I.     Out  of  these  convertites 

There   is   much    matter   to    be    heard    andi« 

learned. 
[To  Duke  S.]  You   to    your    former    honour    I 

bequeath; 

Your  patience  and  your  virtue  well  deserves  it : 
[To  Orl.~\  You  to  a  love,  that   your   true  faith 

doth  merit: 
[To  Oli.~\  You  to  your  land,  and  love,  and  great 

allies : 

[To  Sil.]  You  to  a  long  and  well-deserved  bed:     aoo 
[To  Touch.]  And  you    to    wrangling;    for    thy 

loving  voyage 
Is  but  for  two   months  victualled.     So,   to 

your  pleasures; 

I  am  for  other  than  for  dancing  measures. 
Duke  S.  Stay,  Jaques,  stay. 

Jaq.  To  see  no  pastime  I.     What  you  would  have  206 
I'll  stay  to  know  at  your  abandoned  cave. 

[Exit. 
Duke  S.  Proceed,  proceed.     We  will  begin  these 

rites, 

As  we  do  trust  they'll  end,  in  true  delights. 

[A  dance. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT.  163 


EPILOGUE. 

Ros.  It  is  not  the  fashion  to  see  the  lady  the 
epilogue,  but  it  is  no  more  unhandsome  than 
to  see  the  lord  the  prologue.  If  it  be  true 
that  good  wine  needs  no  bush,  'tis  true  that 

*  a  good  play  needs  no  epilogue :  yet  to  good 
wine  they  do  use  good  bushes;  and  good 
plays  prove  the  better  by  the  help  of  good 
epilogues.  What  a  case  am  I  in  then,  that 
am  neither  a  good  epilogue,  nor  cannot  insin- 

10  uate  with  you  in  the  behalf  of  a  good  play ! 
I  am  not  furnished  like  a  beggar,  therefore 
to  beg  will  not  become  me.  My  way  is  to 
conjure  you,  and  I'll  begin  with  the  women. 
I  charge  you,  0  women,  for  the  love  you  bear 

K  to  men,  to  like  as  much  of  this  play  as 
please  you;  and  I  charge  you,  0  men,  for 
the  love  you  bear  to  women, — as  I  perceive 
by  your  simpering,  none  of  you  hates  them — 
that  between  you  and  the  women  the  play 

so  may  please.  If  I  were  a  woman  I  would  kiss 
as  many  of  you  as  had  beards  that  pleased 
me,  complexions  that  liked  me,  and  breaths 
that  I  defied  not;  and,  I  am  sure,  as  many  as 
have  good  beards  or  good  faces  or  sweet 

t5  breaths  will,  for  my  kind  offer,  when  I  make 
curtsy,  bid  me  farewell.  [Exeunt 


3IQTES. 


ABBKEVIATIONS. 

Abbott.— E.  A.  Abbott's  Shakespearian  Grammar,  Lm> 
don,  1879. 

A.  S.— Anglo-Saxon. 

Clar.    Clarendon  Press  Series,  edited  by  W.  Aldis  Wright, 

Fj— First  Folio  Edition  of  Shakspere,  1623.  F2— Second 
Folio,  1632. 

M.  E.— Middle  English. 

Schmidt.— Shakespeare-Lexicon,  by  Alex.  Schmidt. 

Var. — Variorum  Edition  of  As  You  Like  It,  edited  by  H 
H.  Furness. 

War.— Warwick  Edition  of  As  You  Like  It,  edited  by  J.C. 
Smith. 

The  Title.— The  chief  suggestions  that  have  been  offered 
as  to  the  origin  of  the  name  As  You  Like  It,  are  these :  (1) 
that  it  is  from  a  phrase  in  Lodge's  preface,  "If  you  like  it, 
so :  and  yet  I  will  be  yours  in  duty,  if  you  be  mine  in  favour" ; 
(2)  that  it  was  a  proverbial  motto,  the  use  of  which  here  in 
parallel  to  the  title  of  Much  Ado  About  Nothing;  (3)  that  it 
expresses  the  prevailing  mood  of  the  play. 

ACT  L 

I.  1.  In  the  first  scene  we  have  an  exposition  of  the  open 
ing  situation,  and  are  informed  of  the  outward  circum 
stances  of  nearly  all  the  main  characters.  In  the  case  of 
Orlando,  something  more  is  done,  for  we  get  an  indica- 
tion of  the  spirit  in  which  he  takes  his  fortunes,  and  the 
action,  so  far  as  it  concerns  him,  is  set  a-going. 

L  L  1-2.    The  Folio  reads  thus;  "It  was  upon  this  fashion 

184 


MOTK8. 

j«gueathed  me  by  will."  Though  the  general  meaning  is 
CJear,  the  grammar  is  difficult,  since  charged  (1.  4)  has  no 
subject,  and  it  would  be  awkward  to  understand  "it  was,'* 
parallel  to  it  was  bequeathed  above.  The  simplest  emendation 
is  to  punctuate  as  in  the  text,  and  understand  "he"  (i.e.,  my 
father)  before  bequeathed. 

I.  i.  2-3.  But  poor  a  thousand.  This  transposition  of 
adjective  and  article  is  most  probably  to  be  regarded  as  par- 
allel to  such  idioms  as  "so  great  a  danger,"  "how  honest  a 
man."  Cf.  Abbott,  §§  85,  422. 

I.  i.  4.    On  his  blessing.    At  the  risk  of  losing  his  blessing 

I.  i.  6.  From  the  age  of  Jaques,  "university"  must  be 
meant.  Cf.  Hamlet,  I.  ii.  113,  "Going  back  to  school  in 
Wittenberg."  For  the  pronunciation  of  Jaques,  cf.  II.  i.  26, 
note, 

I.  i.  14.    Manage.    The  training  of  a  horse. 

I.  i.  20.  Countenance.  Behavior,  treatment.  Cf.  II.  vii 
108. 

I.  i.  22.  Hinds.  Farm-servants.  Bars  me.  Shuts  me  out 
from. 

I.  i.  23.    Mines.    Undermines. 

I.  i.  33.  Make.  The  word  is  used  by  Oliver  in  the  sense 
Of  "do."  Orlando  puns  on  it  in  the  sense  of  "produce." 

I.  i.  37  Marry.  A  corruption  of  the  oath  "By  Mary'* 
(the  Virgin) .  There  is  also  a  pun  on  mar. 

I.  i.  40-41.  Be  naught.  A  petty  curse,  like  "Go  to  the  mis 
chief,"  or  "Devil  take  you."  "But  Oliver  also  plays  on  the 
literal  meaning — 'Better  be  nothing  than  be  marring  your 
self.*"  [War.] 

I.  i.  42.  The  reference  is,  of  course,  to  the  parable  of  the 
Prodigal  Son,  Luke  xv. 

I.  i.  43.  Prodigal.  Schmidt  takes  this  as  meaning  merelv 
"ample,"  "abundant."  Clar.  and  others  take  the  phrase  tr 
mean,  "What  portion  have  I  prodigally  spent?"  and  compare 
II.  iii.  39,"the  thrifty  hire  I  saved,"  for  "the hire  I  saved  fy 
thrift. "  Furness  suggests  that  the  phrase  should  be  "prodi 
gal-portion"  =  "prodigal's  portion";  and,  taking  into  ao 
count  the  reference  in  the  preceding  line,  this  seems  mof:' 
probable. 

L  i.  48.    Him.    For  him  =  "he  whom,"  ct  Abbott,  §20a 


166  NOTES. 

I.  i.  50.  In  the  gentle  condition  of  Uood.  Gentle  (—  of  good 
family)  logically  goes  with  blood.  "After  the  fashion  of 
well-born  brothers." 

I.  i.  51.  Courtesy  of  nations.  The  law  of  nations  in  matters 
of  precedence,  i.e.,  here,  the  law  of  primogeniture. 

I.  i.  57.  Is  nearer  to  his  reverence.  Gives  you  a  better  title  to 
the  respect  owed  to  him.  The  tone  or  gesture  with  which 
these  words  are  uttered  is  more  probably  the  cause  of 
Oliver's  burst  of  passion  which  immediately  follows  than 
any  subtle  significance  in  the  words  themselves. 

I.  i.  59-60.  Too  young  in  this.  Not  enough  my  superior  in 
strength,  whatever  you  may  be  in  years.  Cf.  Lodge's 
Rosalynde,  where  Saladyne  (==  Oliver)  says,  "Though  I  am 
eldest  by  birth,  yet  never  having  attempted  any  deeds  of 
arms,  I  am  youngest  to  perform  any  martial  exploits." 

I.  i.  61.  Thou.  Note  that  at  this  point,  when  they  have 
almost  come  to  blows,  the  contemptuous  "thou"  is  used  by 
both,  instead  of  "you." 

I.  i.  65.  Villains.  There  may  be  a  play  here  on  the  mod 
ern  sense  of  this  word  and  the  older  one  of  "low  born  " 

I.  i.  80.    Allottery.    Portion  allotted. 

I.  i.  92.    Spoke.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  42,  4,  (b) . 

I.  i.  94.  Grow  upon.  "Encroach."  (Clar.)  "Orlando  to 
growing  too  big  on  his  hands  to  be  treated  any  longer  like  a 
boy."  (Furness.) 

I.  i.  95.  Rankness  Strong,  rapid  growth;  hence,  In 
science. 

I.  i.  95-96.    No  .  .  .  neither.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  42,5,  (a), 

I.  i.  107  ff.  It  is  clear  that  this  speech  is  put  into  the 
mouth  of  Charles  for  the  instruction  of  the  audience  rather 
than  of  Oliver. 

With  the  implication  throughout  this  passage  that  the 
banishment  of  the  old  Duke  is  recent,  cf .  the  indication  of  a 
long  time  in  I.  iii.  70-77. 

I.  i.  124-25.  Forest  of  Arden.  Shakspere  took  the  name 
from  Lodge,  who  meant  Ardennes  in  France.  That  there 
was  a  forest  of  Arden  in  Warwickshire  need  not  be  regarded 
as  more  than  a  coincidence ;  and  in  placing  in  it  beasts  and 
plants  foreign  to  France,  Shakspere  was  only  availing  him- 
self of  poetic  license  in  his  accustomed  fashion. 


MOTES.  16? 

i.  1. 125.  A  many  merry  men.  Cf.  King  John,  IV.  ii.  199, 
*'A  many  thousand  warlike  French.'*  This  "a"  was  fre- 
quent before  numerals.  Cf .  Abbott  §  87. 

I.  i.  128.  Fleet.  Elsewhere  in  Shakspere,  as  in  other 
waters,  this  verb  is  intransitive. 

.  i.  129.  The  golden  world.  The  mythical  golden  age, 
^  nen,  under  the  government  of  Saturn,  men,  without  laws, 
ived  in  innocence  and  justice,  the  earth  produced  abundance 
without  cultivation,  and  the  season  was  perpetual  spring. 
See  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  I.  89  ff. 

I.  i.  130.     What.    Merely  an  exclamation. 

I.  i.  132.    Marry.    Cf.  I.  i.  37. 

I.  i.  144.  Withal.  With  it.  But  it  is  often  only  an  em 
phatic  "with,"  especially  at  the  end  of  a  sentence;  cf. 
I.  ii.  29. 

I.  i.  145.    Intendment.     Intention. 

I.  i.  152.  Underhand.  Secret,  indirect  (without  any  eviJ 
implication). 

I.  i.  154.  It.  The  use  of  the  neuter  here  is  contemptuous 
But  cf.  III.  v.  110. 

I.  i.  157.    Contriver.    Plotter.    Cf .  IV.  iii.  137. 

I.  i.  160.  Thou  wert  best.  The  original  form  of  the  idiom 
is  found  in  "You  were  best"=  [To]  you  [it]  were  best, 
where  "you"  is  a  dative.  But  in  form  "you"  might  also  be 
nominative,  and  through  this  confusion  arose  constructions 
like  that  in  the  text.  Cf.  1  Henry  VI.,V.  iii.  82,  "I  were  best 
to  leave  him." 

I.  i,  162-63.  Grace  himself  on  thee.  Do  himself  honor  through 
overcoming  you. 

I.  i.  163.    Practise.    Plot.    Cf.  contriver,  1.  157  above, 

I.  i.  170.    Anatomize.    Dissect,  lay  bare. 

I.  i.  179.  Gamester.  The  modern  sense  of  "gambler"  is,  of 
course,  absent,  yet  the  context  makes  it  probable  that  to  the 
usual  interpretation  of  "lively  fellow"  has  to  be  added  the 
idea  of  Orlando's  eagerness  to  enter  the  wrestling  contest, 

I.  i.  181.  He.  For  this  use  of  nominative  for  objective, 
of.  Introduction,  p.  41,  3,  (a). 

I.  i.  183.    Noble  device.    High  ideals.    Sorts.    Ranks. 

I.  i.  187.    Misprised.    Underestimated.    Cf.  1.  ii.  19ft 

I.  i.  189.    Kindle.    Induce  to  go,  incite. 


168  NOTES. 

I.  i.  190.     Go  about.    Take  in  hand,  attempt. 

I.  ii.  In  the  second  scene  we  are  introduced  to  the  heroii^ 
and  the  love  plot  is  begun. 

I.  ii.  1.  Sweet  my  coz.  My  sweet  cousin.  Cf.  III.  ii.  200, 
V.  iv.  40,  and  similar  phrases,  where  the  possessive  has  be- 
come so  closely  associated  with  the  noun,  that  the  adjective 
is  forced  but  of  its  regular  position. 

I.  ii.  4.  I  were  merrier,  I  is  omitted  in  the  folio,  and  was 
first  inserted  by  Rowe. 

I.  ii.  6.  Learn.  Teach.  This  usage,  still  common  in  some 
localities,  is  frequent  in  Elizabethan  English,  and  occurs  as 
early  as  the  13th  century. 

I.  ii.  11.    So.    Provided  that. 

I.  ii.  14, 15.  So  righteously  tempered.  As  perfect.  "To 
temper"  properly  means  "to  mix,"  then  "to  bring  to  a  cer- 
tain state  by  mixing." 

I.  ii.  18.    But  I.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  41-43,  (a). 

I.  ii.  27.  "Note  the  dramatic  irony  of  the  proposed  'sport.' 
Before  the  scene  is  over  she  is  in  love  in  earnest."  (War.) 

I.  ii.  29.     Withal.    With.     Cf.  I.  i.  144,  note. 

I.  ii.  30-31.  Nor  no  .  .  .  neither.  Cf.  Introduction,  p.42-45,(a). 

I.  ii.  35, 36.  Housewife  Fortune.  Dame  Fortune ;  used  f amil 
iarly. 

I.  ii.  36.  Wheel.  The  wheel  on  which  Fortune  was  usually 
represented  as  standing  blindfolded  symbolized  her  incon- 
stancy, out  of  which  Celia  proposed  to  chaff  her. 

I.  ii.  43.    Honest.    Virtuous.      Cf.  III.  iii.  19,  27  ff. ;  V.  iii.  4. 

I.  ii.  44.  HI- f avowedly.  Ugly.  Some  editors  read  "ill 
favoured"  in  accordance  with  the  modern  idiom.  Cf.  In- 
troduction, p.  43,  5,(b). 

I.  ii.  48.  No?  This  mark  of  interrogation  is  due  to 
Hanmer.  Celia  questions  the  negative  in  the  end  of  Rosa- 
lind's speech. 

I.  ii.  54.  Natural.  Idiot :  still  so  used  in  Scotland.  Shaks- 
pere,  of  course,  does  not  mean  that  Touchstone  is  actually 
an  idiot,  but  the  sense  is  near  enough  to  be  forced  for  the 
sake  of  a  pun. 

I.  ii.  57.  Perceiving.  So  F2.  Fj  has  "perceiveth"  which  re« 
quires  the  insertion  of  "and"  before  hath  sent.  Either  emen- 
dation is  sufficient. 


NOTEfc.  169 

i.  il.  71,    Naught.    Worthless.     Cf.  III.  ii.  15. 

I.  ii.  92.  Celia.  The  folio  gives  this  speech  to  Rosalind, 
but  Theobald  changed  it  because  Frederick  is  the  name  of 
the  usurping  Duke. 

I.  ii.  94.     Taxation.     Satire.     Cf.  II.  vii.  71. 

I.  ii.  98.  Wit  .  .  .  silenced.  This  has  been  taken  as  a  pos- 
sible topical  allusion  to  some  recent  interference  with  actors 
(Clar.)  or  to  the  "burning  of  satirical  books  by  public  author- 
ity, 1st  June,  1599. »  (Pleay,  quoted  in  Var.) 

I.  ii.  111.  Colour.  Kind.  Perhaps  the  suggestion  is  right 
that  Celia  is  poking  fun  at  Le  Beau's  pronunciation  of 
sport,  which  she  pretends  to  take  for  "spot." 

I.  ii.  115.  Destinies  decree.  Fi  reads  "decrees,"  probably 
only  as  a  printer's  error  for  "decree."  Other  possibilities 
are  that  Destinies  is  a  possessive,  and  that  the  whole  phrase 
is  parallel  to  will  and  fortune,  or  that  it  is  a  case  of  a  plural 
subject  with  a  singular  verb,  for  which  cf.  Introduction, 
p.  42, 4,  (a). 

I.  ii.  116.     With  a  trowel.     With  more  vigor  than  delicacy. 

I.  ii.  117.  Rank.  For  Rosalind's  pun,  cf.  Cymbeline,  II.  i. 
17-8: 

do.    Would  he  had  been  one  of  my  rank ! 
Sec.  Lord.  \Aside.]     To  have  smelt  like  a  fool. 

I.  ii.  119.    Amaze.    Perplex,  rather  than  "astonish." 

I.  ii.  128.  Comes.  A  singular  verb  is  common  with  a 
plural  subject  in  Shakspere  when  the  verb  precedes  the 
noun.  Cf .  Abbott,  §  335,  and  Introduction,  p.  42,  4,  (a) . 

I.  ii.  132.     Proper.    Handsome. 

I.  ii.  134.  With  bills  ontheir  necks.  Farmer  gives  these  words 
to  Le  Beau.  This  gives  us  a  double  pun.  Le  Beau  would 
use  bills  in  the  sense  of  the  weapon,  (Cf .  Lodge,  "Rosader 
came  pacing  towards  them  with  his  forest-bill  on  his  neck," 
p.  362  of  Var.)  and  Rosalind  puns  on  it  in  the  sense  of  the 
legal  document  which  conventionally  began,  Be  itknown,  etc., 
and  gets  in  another  pun  on  presence  and  presents. 

I.  ii.  137.  Which  Charles.  "Which  being  [originally]  an 
adjective  frequently  accompanies  the  repeated  antecedent, 
Where  definiteness  is  desired,  or  where  care  must  be  taken 
to  select  the  right  antecedent"  (Abbott,  §269). 


170  NOTES. 

I.  ii.  142.    Dole.    Grieving. 

I.  ii.  154.  Broken  music.  Music  played  by  a  set  of  different 
instruments,  as  opposed  to  "concert  music"  played  by  a  set 
of  the  same  instruments.  There  is,  of  course,  a  pun. 

I.  ii.  162.     Stage  direction,     flourish.    I.e.,  of  trumpets. 

I.  ii.  163.  His  .  .  .  forwardness.  Let  the  dagger  he  incurs 
through  his  obstinacy  be  on  his  own  head. 

I.  ii.  166.  Successfully.  As  if  he  might  be  successful.  Cf . 
Introduction,  p.  43,  5,  (b). 

I.  ii.  172.  Odds  in  the  man.  Superiority  on  the  side  of 
Charles.  But  many  editors  read  "men"  and  take  odds  in  the 
sense  of  "inequality." 

I.  ii.  196.     Misprised.    Undervalued.    Cf.  I.  i.  187. 

I.  ii.  200.  Wherein.  The  antecedent  is  omitted.  Supply 
*'forthis  (offence)." 

I.  ii.  205.     Gracious.    Favored. 

I.  ii.  209.  Only.  Transposed  for  emphasis  from  before 
nil.  Cf.  V.  iii.  13. 

I.  ii.  228.  Ways.  Originally  an  adverbial  genitive,  =  "on 
your  way,"  not  a  plural.  Cf.  II.  iii.  66,  and  IV.  i.  190. 

I.  ii.  229.  Be  thy  speed.  Give  thee  success.  Speed  orig- 
inally meant  "success,"  but  in  this  and  similar  passages  it  is 
used  as  if  =  "promoter  of  success."  Cf.  Two  Gentlemen 
of  Verona,  III.  i.  301,  "Saint  Nicholas  be  thy  speed" ;  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  V.  iii.  121,  "Saint  Francis  be  my  speed,"  etc. 

I.  ii.  234.    Should  down.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  42,  4,  (c). 

1.  ii.  237.    Breathed.    Exercised. 

I.  ii.  246.     Still.    Always. 

I.  ii.  253.  His  youngest  son.  The  sentence  is  unfinished. 
Calling.  Name. 

I.  ii.  257.    His  son.    To  be  his  son. 
.  ii.  258.     Unto.     In  addition  to. 

.  ii.  261.  Envious.  Malignant.  This  use  is  commoner  in 
Shaksperean  English  than  the  modern  one  exemplified  in 


I. 


156. 


.  ii.  262.     Sticks.     Stabs. 

.  ii.  264.  This  line  is  awkward  in  meter  as  well  as  in  ex» 
pression.  Capell  and  others  omit  "all."  Abbott  scans  it 
thus: 

But  just  |  ly  as  |  you  have  |  exceed'  |  all  pro  I  mise; 


NOTES.  171 

K5nig  (quoted  by  War. )  thus : 
But  just  I  ly  as  |  you've  ex  j  ceeded  |  all  pro  |  mise. 

I.  ii.  266.  Out  of  suits  with  fortune.  No  longer  in.  fortune's 
suite  or  service.  There  may  be  a  play  on  suit  =  livery,  and 
tuit  =  favor  sued  for.  Cf .  II.  vii.  A,  note. 

T.  ii.  267.     Could.     I.e.,  as  far  as  good  will  goes. 

I.  ii.  271.  Quintain.  A  wooden  dummy  used  for  practice 
in  tilting. 

I.  ii.  276.     Have  with  you.     Come  along. 

I.  ii.  284.     Condition.     Mood. 

I.  ii.  286.  Humorous.  Subject  to  moods  (induced,  accord- 
ing to  the  old  physiology,  by  the  predominance  of  one  of  the 
four  "humors,"  the  mixture  of  which  determined  a  man's 
temperament) . 

I.  ii.  287.  Than  I.  Cf.  Introduction,  p.  41,  3,  (a)  and  line 
18,  above. 

I.  ii.  292.  Taller.  This  seems  to  be  a  slip.  Cf.  I.  iii.  116, 
and  IV.  iii.  90.  It  has  been  proposed  to  read  "shorter," 
"smaller,"  "lower,"  "less  taller,"  "lesser."  See  Var. 

I.  ii.  299.     Argument.     Reason,  grounds. 

I.  ii.  303.     Suddenly.     Soon.     Cf.  II.  ii.  19,  II.  iv.  102. 

I.  ii.  304.    A  better  world.    Better  days. 

I.  ii.  307.  From  the  smoke  into  the  smother.  "Out  of  the 
frying  pan  into  the  fire,"  (Clar.).  Smoker  means  "suffocating 
smoke." 

I.  iii.  The  first  part  of  the  scene  (1-39)  emphasizes  the 
growing  passion  of  Rosalind,  so  that  we  expect  it  to  be  a 
main  element  in  the  plot;  the  second  part  (39-90)  advances 
the  action  through  the  sentence  of  banishment  for  which  Le 
Beau's  speech  in  the  end  of  Scene  ii.  prepared  us ;  the  third 
part  (91-139)  arranges  for  the  transference  of  the  action  to 
the  forest  of  Arden. 

I.  iii.  17.     Coat.    Petticoat,  as  still  in  Scotland. 

I.  iii.  25-26.  A  good  wish  upon  you,:  etc.  Blessings  on  you! 
You  will  try  to  wrestle  with  your  affections  sometime, 
though  they  master  you  at  first. 

I.  iii.  33.     Chase.     Inference,  following  of  the  argument. 

I.  iii.  35.  Dearly.  Intensely.  Dear  is  used  in  Shakspere 
of  anything,  good  or  bad,  that  comes  home  to  one  intimately. 
Cf.  Hamlet,  I.  ii.  182,  "My  dearest  foe." 


3.72  JSOTES. 

i.  iii.  37.  Deserve  well.  Celia,  of  course,  means  "deserve 
hatred  well,"  but  Rosalind  takes  advantage  of  the  omission 
of  the  object  to  answer  in  the  opposite  sense. 

I  iii.  42.  Safest  haste.  I.e.,  The  greater  haste  you  make, 
the  safer  you  will  be. 

I.  iii.  43.  Cousin.  Used  for  niece  or  any  near  relation  out- 
side of  one's  immediate  family. 

I.  iii.  54.    Purgation.     Proof  of  innocence. 

I.  iii.  63.     Friends.     Relations. 

I.  iii.  65.     Good  my  liege.    Cf .  I.  ii.  1,  note. 

I.  iii.  68.    Celia.    A  trisyllable. 

I.  iii.  71.    Remorse.     Pity. 

I.  iii.  72  ff.    Cf.  I.  i.  107,  note. 

I.  iii.  74.     Still.    Cf.  I.  ii.  246,  note;  I.  iii.  77. 

I.  iii,  76.  Jimo's  swans.  Clar.  points  out  that  it  was  to 
Venus,  not  Juno,  that  the  swan  was  sacred. 

I.  iii.  79.    Patience.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  40,  7. 

I.  iii.  82.    Show.    Appear. 

I.  iii.  98.     Thou  and  I  am.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  42,  4,  (a). 

I.  iii.  103.  Change.  I.e.,  of  fortune.  But  the  later  folios 
read  "charge,"  the  meaning  of  which  would  be  explained  by 
the  next  line. 

I.  iii.  117.    All  points.    In  all  respects. 

I.  iii.  118.  Curtle-axe.  A  corruption  of  "cutlass, "  a  short 
sword.  Neither  the  word  nor  the  thing  has  originally  any 
connection  with  axe. 

I.  iii.  123.     It.    The  indefinite  use.    Cf .  V.  ii.  72. 

I.  iii.  129.  Aliena.  From  the  Latin  word  meaning 
"stranger." 

I.  iii.  139.    In    Lodge's   novel,    the    Duke   banishes    his 
daughter  also,  in  anger  at  her  importunity  on  behalf  of 
Rosalind. 

ACT  II. 

II.  i.    In  the  first  act  the  dramatist  introduced  the  hero 
and  heroine,  represented  the  beginning  of  their  passion, 
and,  through  Rosalind's  banishment,  their  apparently  com- 
plete separation.    In  the  second,  he  prepares  the  way  for 
their  coming  together  again  in  the  Forest  of  Arden. 

II.  i.  1.  Exile.  The  accent  on  this  word  in  Shakspere  may 
be  on  either  syllable. 


173 

H.  i.  6.  Hurt  feel  we  but  the  penalty  of  Adam.  The  Folios 
read  "not"  for  but.  Editors  who  retain  this  interpret  the 
penalty  of  Adamas  labor  (Gen.  III.  17,  "In  the  sweat  of  thy 
face  shalt  thou  eat  bread"),  and  put  a  semicolon  or  period 
after  Adam.  Theobald,  followed  by  many  modern  editors, 
changed  "not"  to  but,  understanding  the  season's  difference  to 
be  the  penalty  of  Adam,  and  assuming  a  confusion  (made  also 
by  Milton)  of  the  Scripture  account  of  the  Fall  with  Ovid's 
account  of  the  change  in  climate  after  the  passing  away  of 
the  Golden  Age.  (Of.  note  on  I.  i.  129,  above).  There  is 
possibly  some  further  corruption  of  the  text,  for  the  lines 
immediately  following  are  confused  in  grammar. 

II.  i.  6.  As.  "Here  used  in  the  sense  of  'to  wit,'  'namely.* " 
(Var.) 

II.  i.  8.  Which.  Usually  explained  as  =  "as  to  which." 
But  it  is  clearly  a  case  of  anacolouthon  or  change  of  con- 
struction. 

II.  i.  13.  Venomous.  The  popular  but  mistaken  belief  that 
the  toad  is  poisonous  is  very  old. 

II.  i.  14.  Jewel.  The  toad-stone  which  was  supposed  to  be 
found  in  the  head  of  the  toad  was  taken  as  a  medicine  or 
worn  as  an  amulet  against  poisons. 

II.  i.  18.  I  would  not  change  it.  Many  editors  give  this  to 
the  Duke.  But  no  emendation  is  necessary,  and  the  Duke 
does  "change  it"  at  the  end  of  the  play. 

II.  i.  22.  Fools.  Often  used  in  affection  or  pity.  Cf.  line 
40,  below,  and  King  Lear,  V.  iii.  305,  "And  my  poor  fool  is 
hanged,"  referring  to  Cordelia. 

II.  i.  23.    Burghers.    Citizens. 

II.  i.  24.  Forked  heads.  Strictly,  a  "forked  arrow,"  as  dis- 
tinguished from  a  barbed  arrow,  was  one  with  a  double 
point,  like  a  swallow's  tail.  Here,  however,  probably  arrows 
in  general  are  meant. 

II.  i.  26.  The  melancholy  Jaques.  There  has  been  much  dis- 
cussion on  the  pronunciation  of  this  name.  The  present 
line,  which  is  the  only  one  in  the  play  where  the  evidence 
of  the  metre  is  clear,  requires  a  dissyllabic  pronunciation 
(Ja-ques)y  and  may  be  accepted  as  giving  the  rule  for  the 
play  as  a  whole. 

II.  i.  33.    Sequestered.    Separated  from  his  kind, 


174  NOTES. 

II.  i.  46.    For  metre,  cf.  Introduction,  p.  38,  2. 

II.  i.  52.     Flux.    Flow,  current. 

II.  i.  58.    Invectively.    With  bitter  satire. 

II.  i.  62.  Up.  For  this  intensive  use  of  up  with  the  sense 
of  "completely,"  cf.  phrases  such  as  "burn  up,"  "wind  up," 
etc. 

II.  i.  67.  Cope.  Encounter.  The  word  is  now  no  longer 
transitive,  but  requires  "with." 

II.  i.  68.    Matter.    Material  for  thought,  ideas. 

II.  ii.  Besides  preparing  us  for  the  banishment  of  Oliver, 
this  short  scene  affords  a  striking  contrast  between  the 
moods  of  the  two  Dukes  and  their  respective  surround- 
ings. 

II.  it.  3.  Are  of  consent  and  sufferance.  Have  been  accom- 
plices. 

II.  ii.  8.  Roynish.  Literally,  "scurvy,"  but  used  vaguely 
in  contempt.  The  reading  "roguish"  has  been  suggested. 

II.  ii.  17.  His  brother.  The  emendation  of  Capell,  "his 
brother's,"  while  not  absolutely  necessary,  avoids  the  con- 
fused repetition  in  the  next  line.  Gallant  refers  to  Orlando. 

II.  ii.  19.    Suddenly.    Quickly.    Cf .  I.  ii.  303,  II.  iv.  102. 

II.  ii.  20.    Quail.    Flag,  fail  through  slackness. 

II.  iii.  4.    Make.    Cf .  I.  i.  33,  note. 

II.  iii.  7.     Fond.    Foolishly  eager. 

II.  iii.  8.  Bonny.  The  usual  meaning  of  "bonny"  is  not 
appropriate  here,  and  Schmidt  and  others  give  it  the  mean- 
ing of  "stout,"  "strong."  But  this  meaning  does  not  seem 
to  be  found  elsewhere,  and  Warburton's  emendation  "bony" 
has  been  widely  accepted.  Priser.  Wrestler.  Cf.  Fr.  etre 
aux  prises,  to  grapple,  struggle.  Humorous,  Cf.  I.  ii.  286, 
note. 

II.  iii.  12.  No  more  do  yours.  Your  graces  do  no  more  for 
you. 

II.  iii.  26.    Practices.    Plots.     Cf.  I.  i.  163. 

II.  iii.  27.  This  is  no  place.  This  is  explained  as  uno  fit 
place,"  or,  "no  dwelling  place."  But  it  might  be  used  to-day 
to  express  contempt  or  abhorrence,  without  so  definite  an 
idea  as  these  explanations  imply. 

II.  iii.  37.    Diverted.  Turned  aside  from  its  natural  channel. 

II.  iii.  89.     Thrifty  hire.   Wages  saved  by  thrift.   Cf .  I.  i.  43. 


NOTES.  175 

II.  iii.  42.  Unregarded  age.  Supply  "should  be,'v  to  parallel 
the  construction  in  the  previous  line. 

II.  iii.  43-44.  Cf.  Job  xxxviii.  41;  Psalms  cxlvii.  9;  Mat- 
thew  x.  29;  Luke  xii.  6  and  24. 

II.  iii.  50.    Nor  did  not.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  4*2, 5,  (a). 

II.  iii.  58.  Sweat.  Abbott  (§341)  gives  this  as  an  instance 
of  a  word  ending  in  ut"  instead  of  "ted"  for  euphony.  It  may 
be  from  the  preterite  uswette"  found  in  M.  E. 

II.  iii,  61-62.  Promotion  puts  an  end  to  the  service  which 
earned  it. 

II.  iii.  65,  In  lieu  of.  Properly,  4iln  the  place  of,"  but 
used  by  Shakspere  for  "in  return  for." 

II.  iii.  66.     Ways.    Cf.  I.  ii.  228,  note,  and  IV.  i.  190. 

II.  iii.  68.  Low  content.  Humble  situation  in  which  we 
may  be  contented. 

II.  iv.  This  scene  slightly  advances  the  main  action  as 
regards  the  heroine,  and  introduces  the  underplot  of  Phebe 
and  Silvius. 

II.  iv.  1.  Weary.  The  Folios  read  "merry,"  and  this  is 
defended  by  Furness  and  others  who  take  Rosalind's  second 
speech,  except  the  last  three  words,  as  an  aside,  and  sup- 
pose her  to  be  assuming  good  spirits  to  support  Celia.  But 
weary  seems  to  suit  better  both  Touchstone's  retort  and 
Rosalind's  confession. 

II.  iv.  6-7.  Doublet  and  hose.  The  male  costume  of  the 
time,  corresponding  to  coat  and  trousers.  Contrast  the 
modern  sense  of  hose. 

II.  iv.  9.    Cannot  go  no.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  42,  5,  (a). 

II.  iv.  12.  Cross.  Touchstone  puns  on  the  use  of  the  word 
In  Matthew  x.,  38,  "He  that  taketh  not  his  cross,"  and  ita 
use  as  the  name  of  an  Elizabethan  coin  which  had  a  cross 
stamped  on  one  side. 

II.  iv.  31.  Fantasy.  Common  in  Elizabethan  English  in 
the  sense  of  "love."  The  shorter  form,  "fancy,"  is  also  so 
Used.  Cf.IIl.  v.  29;  V,  iv.  160. 

II.  iv.  36.    For  metre  cf.  Introduction,  p.  39,  4. 

II.  iv.  88.  Wearing.  The  later  folios  have  "wearying," 
With  the  same  meaning. 

II.  iv.  40.  Broke.  Cf.  Introduction,  p.  42,  4,  (b),  and  Ab- 
bott, §843. 


176  NOTES. 

II.  iv.  44.  Searching  of.  Two  constructions  seem  ^.o  be 
confused  here:  searching,  as  a  participle,  which  would  not 
require  the  of;  and  searching  as  a  verbal  noun,  which  would 
require  "in"  before  it.  Cf.  hearing,  II.  vii.  4,  for  a  similar 
confusion ;  and  kissing  and  wooing  in  lines  49  and  52,  below, 
for  the  correct  modern  construction. 

II.  iv.  50.  The  first  Folio  has  "batler."  Both  words 
denote  an  instrument  with  which  washerwomen  beat 
clothes. 

II.  iv.  51.    Chopt.    Another  form  of  "chapped." 

II.  iv.  52.  Peascod.  Pea-pod.  The  choice  of  this  particu- 
lar thing-  seems  to  have  been  suggested  by  the  practice 
according-  to  which  pea-pods  were  used  for  divination.  A 
rustic  maiden  would  place  a  pod  with  nine  peas  over  the 
door,  believing  that  the  first  man  who  entered  was  to  be  her 
husband. 

II.  iv.  52-55.  From  whom  .  .  .  sake.  The  passage  is  obscure. 
If  whom  and  her  refer  to  Jane  Smile,  then  these  clauses 
do  not  describe  "the  wooing  of  a  peascod  instead  of  her. " 
Some  editors  take  whom  and  her,  to  refer  to  peascod,  and,  to 
make  this  fit  better,  interpret  it  as  referring  to  the  whole 
plant.  But  there  seems  to  be  no  authority  for  this  sense. 
Touchstone  must  not  be  expected  to  be  very  coherent. 
Weeping  tears.  Active  for  passive  participle.  The  phrase  is 
so  common  in  Elizabethan  English  that  it  is  unlikely  that 
Shakspere  meant  it  to  be  so  ridiculous  as  it  sounds  to 
modern  ears. 

II.  iv.  57-58.  Mortal  in  folly.  "Exceedingly  foolish,"  is  the 
usual  explanation,  as  if  =  "mortal  foolish,"  the  form  in  the 
text  being  used  to  preserve  the  epigrammatic  balance  of  the 
sentence.  Schmidt  suggests  the  interpretation,  "human  in 
folly." 

II.  iv.  68.  Clown.  Touchstone  of  course  uses  the  word  in 
the  sense  of  "rustic."  Rosalind  puns  on  the  meaning  of 
"jester." 

II.  iv.  81.  Do  not  shear,  etc.  Do  not  get  the  wool  from  the 
sheep  that  I  feed. 

II.  iv.  82.    Churlish.    Originally  "rustic"  then  "discourte- 
ous," then  "ungenerous,"  as  here. 
>TI.  iv.  85.    Cote.    Cottage,  not  "sheep-fold,"  as  is  prove* 


NOTES.  177 

by  line  94,  below,  and  III.  ii.  449.  Bounds  of  feed.  Extent 
of  pasturage. 

II.  iv.  89.    In  my  voice.    So  far  as  my  authority  goes. 

II.  iv.  90.     What.    Who. 

II.  iv.  93.  Stand  with  honesty.  Be  consistent  with  honor- 
able dealing  (towards  Silvius) . 

II.  iv.  97.     Waste.    Spend. 

II.  iv.  101.     Feeder.     Shepherd. 

II.  v.  This  scene  does  nothing  to  advance  the  action,  and 
serves  chiefly  to  introduce  Jaques.  It  is  entirely  of  Shak- 
spere's  invention. 

II.  v.  3.     Turn.    Tune,  modulate. 

II.  v.  19.     Stanzo.    An  obsolete  form  of  "stanza." 

II.  v.  21.  Names.  It  is  suggested  that  there  is  a  reference 
here  to  the  Elizabethan  use  of  "nomina"  as  "the  names  of 
the  debts  owed." 

II.  v.  29.  Beggarly.  Not  "mean,"  but  simply  "like  a  beg- 
gar's." 

II.  v.  31.     Cover.     Spread  the  table. 

II.  v.  33.  Lookyou.  For  the  omission  of  "for,"  cf.  Henry 
V.,  IV.  vii.  76,  "To  look  our  dead,"  and  cf.  Introduction,  p. 
43,6,  (b). 

II.  v.  35.    Disputable.     Disputatious. 

II.  v.  47.    Note.    Tune. 

•II.  v.  48.  In  despite  of  my  invention.  In  spite,  or  scorn,  of 
my  (lack  of)  poetical  powers. 

II.  v.  55.  Ducdame.  Probably  a  nonsensical  refrain, 
the  explanation  of  which  by  Jaques  is  merely  quizzical. 

II.  v.  62.  First-born  of  Egypt.  The  reference  is  presumably 
to  Exodus  xi.  5.  Its  appropriateness,  if  it  has  any,  has  not 
been  satisfactorily  explained.  Johnson  is  usually  quoted  as 
saying  that  it  is  "a  proverbial  expression  for  high-born  per- 
sons." 

II.  vi.  In  Lodge's  novel  it  is  Adam  that  comforts  Rosader. 
*'Hunger  growing  on  so  extreme,  Adam  Spencer  (being 
old)  began  first  to  faint,  and  sitting  him  down  on  a  hill,  and 
looking  about  him,  espied  where  Rosader  lay  as  feeble  and 
as  ill-perplexed :  which  sight  made  him  shed  tears,  and  to 
.fall  into  these  bitter  terms  .  .  .  As  he  was  ready  to  go  for- 
ward in  his  passion,  he  looked  earnestly  on  Rosader,  and 


178  NOTES. 

seeing-  him  change  colour,  he  rose  up  and  went  to  him,  and 
holding  his  temples,  said,  'What  cheer,  master?  Though  all 
fail,  let  not  the  heart  faint :  the  courage  of  a  man  is  showed 
in  the  resolution  of  his  death.'  "  It  is  only  when  Adam  pro- 
poses to  open  his  own  veins  to  relieve  him  that  Rosader, 
"full  of  courage  (though  very  faint)  rose  up,  and  wished 
Adam  Spencer  to  sit  there  till  his  return :  'for  my  mind 
gives  me,'  quoth  he,  'I  shall  bring  thee  meat.'  With  that, 
like  a  mad  man  he  rose  up,  and  ranged  up  and  down  the 
woods,  seeking  to  encounter  some  wild  beast  with  his  rapier, 
that  either  he  might  carry  his  friend  Adam  food,  or  else 
pledge  his  life  in  pawn  of  his  loyalty."  (pp.  342-43  of  Var.) 

The  significance  of  Shakspere's  change  need  not  be  pointed 
out. 

II.  vi.  6.     Uncouth.     Unknown,  strange. 

II.  vi.  7.  Savage.  Wild.  Literally,  "belonging  to  the 
woods,"  not  necessarily  "fierce." 

II.  vi.  8.     Conceit.    Thought,  fancy. 

II.  vi.  10.  Comfortable.  "Usually  explained  as  passive, 
but  the  word  is  always  active  elsewhere  in  Shakspere." 
(War.) 

II.  vi.  11.     Presently.    Immediately. 

II.  vi.  15.  Well  said!  Well  done!  It  is  often  so  used  in 
Shakspere  when  nothing  has  been  said.  Cf.  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  I.  v.  88,  "Well  said,  my  hearts,"  where  Capulet  is  com- 
mending the  dancing.  Here  it  seems  to  refer  to  some  effort 
made  by  Adam  to  look  courageous.. 

II.  vii.  The  first  part  of  this  scene  serves  to  give  Orlando 
time  to  find  his  way  to  the  Dnke's  party,  and  is  entirely 
Shakspere's  invention.  But  its  chief  purpose  is  to  elab- 
orate the  background  by  unfolding  further  the  characters 
of  Jaques  and  Duke  senior. 

The  second  part,  after  the  entry  of  Orlando,  is  from  Lodge, 
and  helps  on  the  action  by  establishing  Orlando  in  the 
forest. 

II.  vii.  1.  I  think  he  be.  For  the  uncertainty  implied  in 
the  use  of  the  subjunctive,  cf.  Othello,  III.  iii.  384,  "I  think 
my  wife  be  honest,  and  think  she  is  not.'* 

II.  vii.  4.     Hearing  of.     Cf.  II.  iv.  44,  note. 

II.  vii.  5.     Compact  of  jars.     Composed  of  discords.    Cf, 


NOTES.  179 

Midsummer  Night's    Dream,  V.  i.  7-8,  "The  lunatic,  the 
lover,  and  the  poet  Are  of  imagination  all  compact." 

II.  vii.  6.  Spheres.  According1  to  the  Ptolemaic  system, 
which  was  still  commonly  held  in  Shakspere's  time,  the 
earth  is  the  centre  round  which  revolve  eight  concentric 
spheres,  in  which  are  fixed  the  sun,  moon,  the  five  then 
known  planets,  and  the  fixed  stars.  Each  sphere  in  its 
motion  gives  forth  a  note,  and  the  harmony  of  the  eight 
notes  is  the  "music  of  the  spheres,"  inaudible  to  gross 
human  ears.  Cf.  Merchant  of  Venice,  V.  i.  60: 

There's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  behold'st 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubins. 

II.  vii.  13.  Motley.  Referring  to  the  parti-coloured  cos- 
tume of  the  professional  jester. 

II.  vii.  19.  The  reference  is  to  the  proverb,  "Fortune 
favors  fools." 

II.  vii.  20.  Dial.  A  pocket-dial  or  a  watch.  The  word 
was  used  of  any  instrument  marked  with  hours  for  telling 
the  time.  Poke.  A  large  pouch  was  a  regular  part  of  a 
jester's  equipment. 

II.  vii.  29.  Moral.  Usually  taken  as  =  "moralize."  But 
Schmidt  and  Furness  prefer  to  regard  it  as  an  adjective. 

II.  vii.  32.  Sans.  In  Shakspere's  time  this  word  was 
"actually  adopted  for  a  time  as  an  English  word."  (Clar.) 
Cf.  line  166,  below. 

II.  vii.  34.     Wear.    Costume. 

II.  vii.  39.  Dry.  "In  the  physiology  of  Shakspere's  time, 
a  dry  brain  accompanied  slowness  of  apprehension  and  a 
retentive  memory."  (Clar.) 

II.  vii.  41.     Observation.     See  Introduction,  p.  40,  7. 

II.  vii.  44.  Suit.  Probably  a  pun  on  the  two  meanings  of 
"costume"  and  "request."  Cf.  I.  ii.  266,  note. 

II.  vii.  55.  [Not  to] .  These  words  are  not  found  in  the 
Folios,  but  were  supplied  by  Theobald.  They  improve  the 
sense  and  complete  the  verse,  which  otherwise  is  defective. 
Bob.  A  smart  blow,  a  taunt. 

II.  vii.  56.  Anatomized.  Dissected  and  exposed.  Cf.  I.  i 
170. 


180  NOTES. 

II.  vii.  57.    Squandering  glances.     Hits  made  at  random. 

II.  vii.  63.  Counter.  A  trifling  wager.  A  counter  was  & 
round  piece  of  metal  of  little  or  no  intrinsic  value,  used  for 
reckoning. 

II.  vii.  65-69.  Note  the  significance  of  this  description  of 
the  past  life  of  Jaques  in  accounting  for  his  present  char- 
acter. In  the  next  speech  Jaques  fails  to  meet  the  Duke's 
point.  The  Duke  has  pointed  out  that  such  satire  as 
Jaques  purposes  would  corrupt  people  and  Jaques  argues 
that  if  it  were  general,  no  individual  would  have  a  right 
to  resent  it. 

II.  vii.  66.    Brutish  sting.    Animal  impulse. 

II.  vii.  67.  Embossed.  Swollen.  Headed  evils.  Sores  grown 
to  a  head. 

II.  vii.  71.  Tax.  Accuse.  Cf.  I.  ii.  94,  and  II.  vii.  86. 
The  general  sense  of  the  passage  is,  "Why,  how  can  a  man 
who  speaks  against  pride  in  general,  be  regarded  as  attack- 
ing anyone  in  particular?  Is  it  not  excessively  common 
all  around,  exhausting  the  means  of  those  who  harbour 
it?" 

II.  vii.  73.  Wearer's.  The  Folios  read  "weary."  The 
emendation  is  due  to  Singer. 

II.  vii.  75.  City-woman.  Citizen's  wife.  Satire  of  the 
extravagant  aping  of  court  fashions  by  the  wives  of  city 
tradesmen  was  very  common  in  Shakspere's  time. 

II.  vii.  76.  Cost  of  princes.  Clar.  compares  2  Henry  VI.,  I. 
iii.  83,  "She  bears  a  duke's  revenues  on  her  back." 

II.  vii.  79.     Function.    Occupation. 

II.  vii.  80.  That  says  his  finery  is  not  bought  at  my 
expense. 

II.  vii.  82.  Mettle.  Spirit,  nature."  He  who  gives  the 
answer  in  line  80,  implies  that  he  is  guilty  of  the  kind  of 
folly  attacked. 

II.  vii.  84.    Right.    Justice. 

II.  vii.  85.     Free.    Conscience-clear. 

II.  vii.  86.     Taxing.     Cf.  II.  vii.  71,  note. 

II.  vii.  88.  Eat.  This  form  of  the  past  participle  occurs 
elsewhere  in  Shakspere. 

II.  vii.  90.  Of  .  .  .  of.  Cf.  Introduction,  p.  43,  6,  and 
Abbot*  §407. 


NOTE&  181 

II.  vii.  93,  $6.  Civility.  Courtesy,  in  a  higher  degree  than 
the  present  ase  implies.  Cf.  "civil  sayings,"  III.  ii.  131. 

II.  vii.  94.  Vein.  Humour.  Your  first  question  hit  thftr 
truth  as  to  my  disposition. 

II.  vii.  96.  Inland  bred.  Bred  in  a  civilized  district,  as 
opposed  to  an  outlandish  one.  For  metre,  cf .  Introduction, 
p.  39,  5. 

II.  vii.  97.    Nurture.    Cultivation,  breeding. 

II.  vii.  100.    An.     If. 

II.  vii.  108.     Countenance.    Cf.  I.  i.  20,  note. 

II.  vii.  118.  Let  gentleness  strongly  support  my  re- 
quest. 

II.  vii.  125.     Upon  command.     At  your  own  order. 

II.  vii.  128.  Whiles.  Adverbial  genitive  of  while.  It 
survives  in  modern  English  with  an  additional  ut''  in 
"  whilst." 

II.  vii.  132.     Weak  evils.    Evils  causing  weakness. 

II.  vii.  139.     Wherein  .  .  in.    See  Introduction,  p.  43,  6. 

II.  vii.  139  ff.  With  regard  to  this,  the  most  famous 
speech  in  the  play,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  the  com- 
parison of  life  to  a  stage  was  long  familiar  before  Shak- 
spere  used  it,  that  its  technical  purpose  here  is  to  fill  in  the 
gap  of  Orlando's  absence,  and  that  it  is  spoken  by  Jaques, 
who  is  not  at  all  the  kind,  of  character  into  whose  mouth 
Shakspere  would  be  likely  to  put  >his  own  view  of  life. 
This  is  the  more  important  since  the  description  of  the 
seven  ages  is  made  with  Jaques's  characteristic  sneer  at 
human  nature. 

II.  vii.  143.  Seven  ages.  For  earlier  examples  of  similar 
divisions  of  the  life  of  man,  see  Var.  pp.  122-24.  "The  merit 
of  Shakespeare  is  not  that  he  invented  this  distribution,  but 
that  he  has  exhibited  it  more  brilliantly,  more  impres- 
sively, than  had  ever  been  done  before."  (Hunter,  quoted 
in  Var.) 

II.  vii.  148.  Ballad.  This  word  was  used  of  almost  any 
kind  of  short  poem. 

II.  vii.  150.  Strange  oaths.  The  affectation  of  foreign 
oaths  by  the  soldier  who  had  been  abroad  is  often  satirized 
in  the  drama  of  this  time,  e.g.,  Bobadil,  in  Ben  .Tonson'S 
Every  Man  in  His  Humour. 


182  NOTES. 

II.  vii.  151.  Sudden.  Rash,  hasty.  The  com  ma  after  this 
word  is  important,  as  indicating  that  it  stands  as  a  separate 
idea,  and  is  not  to  be  taken  with  in  quarrel  as  a  mere  doublet 
of  quick. 

II.  vii.  154.  Capon.  Hales  points  out  that  there  is  a  def- 
inite satirical  allusion  here.  "It  was  the  custom  to  pre- 
sent magistrates  with  presents,  especially,  it  would  seem, 
with  capons,  by  way  of  securing  their  good  will  and  favour." 
(Quoted  in  Var.,  p.  126,  which  see  for  corroborative  evi- 
dence.) Lined.  Filled,  stuffed.  It  is  used  by  Shakspere 
in  the  modern  sense  also. 

II.  vii.  155.  Formal  cut.  As  opposed  to  the  fierce  shaggi- 
ness  of  the  soldier's. 

II.  vii.  156.  Saws.  Maxims.  Modern.  Commonplace,  trite, 
every-day.  Cf.  All's  Well,  II.  in.  1-3.  "We  have  our  phil- 
osophical persons,  to  make  modern  and  familiar,  things 
supernatural  and  causeless."  Instances.  This  word  is  used 
by  Shakspere  in  a  variety  of  senses,  among  which  are  (1) 
proof ;  (2)  example,  precedent ;  (3)  proverb.  Schmidt  and 
Var.  prefer  (3) ;  but  (2)  also  gives  good  sense  here.  For 
(1)  cf.  III.  ii.  56. 

II.  vii.  158.  Pantaloon.  The  pantaloon  was  a  stock  char- 
acter in  Italian  comedy,  in  which  he  was  represented  as  a 
foolish  old  dotard. 

II.  vii.  163.  His.  The  old  neuter  possessive.  "Its"  did  not 
come  into  general  use  until  the  second  half  of  the  seven- 
teenth century. 

II.  vii.  166.    Sans.    Cf.  line  32  and  note,  above. 

II.  vii.  175.  Unkind.  Literally,  "unnatural";  but  the 
modern  sense  seems  equally  good  here. 

II.  vii.  187.  Warp.  To  twist  out  of  shape,  hence,  to 
change.  This  may  refer  (1)  to  the  change  of  the  water  to 
ice,  or  (2)  to  the  ruffling  of  the  surface  in  freezing. 

II.  vii.  189.  As  friend  remembered  not.  This  has  been  taken 
in  two  ways :  Thy  sting  is  not  so  sharp  (1)  as  that  which 
a  friend  feels  who  is  not  remembered ;  (2)  as  that  which  a 
friend  inflicts  who  does  not  remember, — the  past  participle 
being  active  in  sense.  Cf.  III.  v.  181,  where  "Now  I  am 
remembered"  =  Now  I  recollect. 

II.  vii.  193.    Effigies.     Likeness.    The   accent    is    on    the 


NOTES.  183 

second  syllable.    This  is  not  the  plural  of  "effigy,"  but  the 
Latin  word  unchanged. 

II.  vii.  196.     For  metre,  cf.  Introduction,  p.  39,  5. 

II.  vii.  198.     Thou.    The    pronoun    used    to    an  inferior. 
Contrast  "you"  in  the  lines  addressed  to  Orlando. 

ACT  III. 

III.  i.    This    scene    brings  to  a  point  the   preliminary 
action  at  the  court,  and  prepares  matters  so  that  Oliver's 
appearance  in  the  forest  in  IV.  iii.  is  plausible. 

III.  i.  2.    Better.    Greater. 

III.  i.  3.  Argument.  Subject.  Cf.  the  use  for  the  subject 
or  contents  of  a  book,  as,  e.g.,  the  "argument"  prefixed  to 
each  book  of  Paradise  Lost,  and  the  use  in  I.  ii.  299,  for 
"grounds." 

III.  i.  4.  Thou  present.  The  nominative  absolute  con- 
struction. 

III.  i.  6.  With  candle.  The  allusion  is  probably  to  the 
parable  of  the  woman  who  lost  the  pieces  of  silver,  in 
Luke  xv.  8. 

III.  i.  11.  Quit.  Acquit.  Thee.  Cf.  Introduction,  p.  41, 
3,  (b). 

III.  i.  16.     Of  such  a  nature.    Whose  special  business  it  is. 

III.  i.  17.  Extent.  Valuation,  usually  with  a  view  to  tax- 
ation. It  was  also  used  of  a  writ  to  seize  the  lands,  etc., 
belonging  to  a  debtor  to  the  Crown,  in  order  to  compel 
payment.  But  here  there  is  no  question  of  debt,  so  the 
phrase,  make  an  extent,  is  probably  used  vaguely  for 
"seize." 

III.  i.  18.    Expediently.     Expeditiously,  quickly. 

III.  ii.  In  this,  the  great  central  scene  of  the  play,  the 
complications  reach  their  climax,  and  the  unravelling 
begins. 

III.  ii.  2.  Thrice-crowned.  The  same  goddess  was  known 
as  Proserpina  in  the  underworld,  Cynthia  (the  moon)  in 
the  heavens,  and  Diana  on  earth. 

III.  ii.  3.  Pale  sphere.  The  adjective  seems  to  imply  that 
sphere  is  used  for  the  moon  itself,  and  not  for  the  sphere 
which  carries  it  round,  as  described  in  II.  vii.  6,  note. 


184  JSOTES. 

III.  ii.  4.     Thy  huntress\    Rosalind's.    Full.    Whole. 

III.  ii.  6.  Character.  Write.  This  carving  on  trees  is  a 
convention  in  pastoral  poetry,  at  least  as  old  as  Vergil. 

III.  ii.  10.  Unexpressive.  Inexpressible.  She.  Shakspere 
frequently  uses  she  as  a  noun  for  "woman." 

III.  ii.  13.    In  respect  of.    In  comparison  with. 

III.  ii.  15.    Naught.    Worthless.    Cf .  I.  ii.  71. 

III.  ii.  33.     Complain  of.     Complain  of  the  want  of. 

III.  ii.  47.  Parlous.  Perilous.  "The  spelling  represents 
the  [Elizabethan]  pronunciation."  (Clar.) 

III.  ii.  53-54.     But  you  Hiss.     Without  kissing-. 

III.  ii.  56.    Instance.     Proof.    Cf.  II.  vii.  156,  note. 

III.  ii.  57.    Still.    Constantly. 

III.  ii.  58.    Fells.     Fleeces. 

III.  ii.  59.     Your.    The  indefinite  use.     Cf  V.  iv.  64. 

III.  ii.  65.    More  sounder.    Cf .  Introduction,  p.  41,  2. 

III.  ii.  67.     Surgery.     Doctoring-. 

III.  ii.  69.  Civet.  A  perfume,  somethinglike  musk,  taken 
from  the  civet  cat. 

III.  ii.  72.  Perpend.  Reflect.  The  word  is  pedantic,  and 
is  used  in  Shakspere  only  by  comic  characters. 

III.  ii.  78.  Incision.  This  word  is  generally  used  in 
Shakspere  of  blood-letting,  at  that  time  a  cure  for  almost 
any  ailment. 

III.  ii.  79.  Raw.  Ignorant,  unsophisticated.  Cf .  Richard 
II.,  II.  iii.  42,  "Tender,  raw,  and  young." 

III.  ii.  83.  Content  with  my  harm.  Patient  under  mis- 
fortune. 

III.  ii.  87.  Ind.  In  Elizabethan  verse  this  word  usually 
rhymes  with  "mind." 

III.  ii.  91.     Lined.    Drawn. 

III.  ii.  94.  Fair.  Beauty.  For  this  substantive  use,  cf. 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  I.  i.  182,  "Demetrius  loves 
your  fair." 

III.  ii.  95.     You.     See  Introduction,  p.  42,  3,  (c). 

III.  ii.  97-98.  The  right  butter-women's  rank.  The  general 
sense  seems  to  be  that  it  jogs  along  like  butter-women 
going  to  market.  If  "rank"  is  che  correct  reading,  it  must 
be  used  in  the  sense  of  "row,"  "file."  But  Clar.  suggests 
very  plausibly  that  we  ought  to  read  "rack"  r=  a  gait 


NOTES.  185 

between  a  trot  and  an  amble.    Right  =:  true,  regular.    Cf. 
III.  ii.  287,  "right  painted  cloth." 

III.  ii.  105.     Winter.    FI  and  F2  read  "wintred." 

III.  ii.  113.  False  gallop.  The  phrase  is  used  of  a  horse 
when  in  galloping  he  lifts  the  left  foot  first.  (Var.) 

III.  ii.  118.  Graff.  The  earlier  (and  more  correct)  form 
of  "graft.'1 

III.  ii.  119.  Medlar.  A  fruit,  something  like  an  apple, 
which  is  eaten  when  it  has  grown  soft  (but  not  rotten).  It 
is  chosen  by  Rosalind,  of  course,  for  the  sake  of  the  pun 
with  "meddler." 

III.  ii.  128.  This  a  desert.  The  Folios  read  "this  desert." 
Other  editions  emend  to  "this  desert  silent." 

III.  ii.  131.  Civil.  The  meanings  suggested  for  civil  in  this 
passage  are:  (1)  belonging  to  civilization  (as  opposed  to 
the  solitude  of  the  desert);  (2)  decent,  polite ;  (3)  grave, 
solemn.  Of  these  the  last  best  suits  the  lines  that  follow. 

III.  ii.  133.  His.  Its.  Cf.-II.vii.  163,  note.  E-^ing.  Wan- 
dering (without  moral  significance). 

III.  ii.  135.    Buckles  in.     Encloses. 

III.  ii.  139.    Sentence  end.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  41,  1. 

III.  ii.  142.  Quintessence.  The  medieval  philosophers 
regarded  the  world  as  composed  of  four  elements — fire, 
air,  earth,  and  water— and  a  "fifth  essence,"  which  was  to 
the  world  what  the  soul  was  to  the  body. 

III.  ii.  143.     In  little.     In  miniature. 

III.  ii.  144-155.  With  the  whole  passage,  cf.  Tempest,  III. 
i.  42-8: 

For  several  virtues 
Have  I  liked  several  women ;  .  . 
.  .  .  but  you,  O  you, 
So  perfect  and  so  peerless,  are  created 
Of  every  creature's  best  I 

III.  ii.  146.  Wide-enlarged.  "Spread  through  the  world," 
(Schmidt).  But  it  is  equally  probable  that  the  meaning  is 
"at  their  fullest." 

III.  ii.  147.    Presently.    Immediately. 

III.  ii.  150.  Atalanta's  better  part.  Atalanta  was  noted  for 
her  swiftness  and  beauty.  She  challenged  her  suitors  to  a 
foot-race;  if  anyone  outstripped  her, he  was  to  win  her;  if 


186  NOTES. 

she  outstripped  him.  he  was  to  die.  It  seems  likely  that 
her  better  part,  then,  was  her  athletic  form,  as  opposed  to 
her  cruelty,  implied  in  the  harsh  condition. 

III.  ii.  151.  Lucretia.  A  noble  Roman  ladjr  who  was  dis- 
honored by  Sextus  Tarquinius,  and  killed  herself.  Shak- 
epere  tells  the  story  in  his  Rape  of  Lucrece. 

III.  ii.  153.    Synod.    Council. 

III.  ii.  155.     Touches.    Qualities.    Cf .  V.  iv.  27. 

III.  ii.  157.  And  I  to  live.  Cf .  Abbott,  §  416,  for  other 
instances  where  the  second  of  two  infinitives  following-  an 
auxiliary  has  'to"  where  we  should  omit  it  and  perhaps 
repeat  the  auxiliary. 

III.  ii.  158.  Pulpiter.  Preacher.  The  Folios  read  "Ju- 
piter," but  this  change  suits  the  context  so  well  that  it 
has  been  generally  adopted. 

III.  ii.  166.     Scrip.     Pouch. 

III.  ii.  174.     Without.     Outside  of. 

III.  ii.  179.  Nine  days.  This  was  the  proverbial  length  of 
time  for  a  wonder  to  possess  the  popular  mind. 

III.  ii.  181.  Palm  tree.  The  tropical  characteristics  of  the 
Forest  of  Arden  are  taken  from  Lodge's  novel. 

III.  ii.  182.  Berhymed,  etc.  Var.  quotes  many  references 
to  this  supposed  method  of  killing  rats.  Pythagoras.  To 
him  was  attributed  the  doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of 
souls. 

III.  ii.  190-92.  The  reference  is  to  the  proverb,  "Friends 
may  meet,  but  mountains  never  greet." 

III.  ii.  199.  Out  of  all  hooping.  Beyond  what  can  be 
expressed  by  exclamations.  The  modern  spelling  is 
"whooping." 

III.  ii.  200.  Good  my  complexion!  My  good  complexion! 
Cf.  I.  ii.  1,  note.  The  exclamation  is  evidently  occasioned 
by  her  blushes. 

III.  ii.  202-204.  Ont,  inch  .  .  .  discovery.  The  least  additional 
delay  suggests  so  many  questions,  that  the  answering  of 
them  will  be  as  great  a  matter  as  exploring  the  Pacific. 

III.  ii.  211.     Of  God's  making?    "Or  his  tailor's?"    (Clar.) 

III.  ii.  216.    Stay.    Wait  for. 

III.  ii.  222-23.  Speak  sad  brow,  etc.  Speak  with  a  serious 
face  and  as  a  true  maid.  For  construction  cf .  III.  ii.  2S7-8& 


NOTES.  18? 

"I  answer  you  right  painted  cloth,"  and  Introduction,  p.  43, 
6,  (b.) 

III.  ii.  230.     Wlierein.     In  what  costume. 

III.  ii.  235.  Gargantua.  A  giant  with  an  enormous  appe- 
tite, about  whom  Rabelais  wrote  a  romance. 

III.  ii.  241.     Freshly.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  43,  5,  (b). 

III.  ii.  243.  Atomies.  Atoms.  Used  especially  of  the  motes 
in  the  sunbeams.  Resolve.  Solve. 

III.  ii.  246.     Observance.    Attention. 

III.  ii.  248.    Jove's  tree.    The  oak  was  sacred  to  Jupiter. 

III.  ii.  256.  Holla.  Stop,  a  call  to  horses.  Cf.  "curvets" 
in  next  line. 

III.  ii.  259.  Heart.  For  the  pun  on  "hart,"  cf.  Julius 
Caesar,  III.  i.  207-208. 

O  world,  thou  wast  the  forest  to  this  hart 
And  this,  indeed,  O  world,  the  heart  of  thee. 

III.  ii.  260.    Burden.    Under- song,  accompaniment. 

III.  ii.  261.     Bringest.     Puttest. 

III.  ii.  271.  God  buy  you.  The  usual  Shaksperean  equiva- 
lent of  "good-bye." 

III.  ii.  275.    Moe.     More. 

III.  ii.  285.  Goldsmith's  wives,  etc.  According-  to  Furness, 
it  was  customary  for  the  wives  of  shopkeepers  to  sit  before 
their  doors  and  entice  the  young"  gallants  to  buy.  Jaques 
implies  that  Orlando  was  in  the  habit  of  hanging  about 
such  places  and  learning  by  heart  the  mottoes  engraved 
on  the  rings, 

III.  ii.  287-88.  Right  painted  cloth.  Rooms  were  hung  with 
canvas  painted  with  scriptural  and  other  scenes,  and  orna- 
mented with  scrolls  on  which  were  written  pithy  sayings. 
Cf.  Lucrece,  244, 

Who  fears  a  sentence,  or  an  old  man's  saw, 
Shall  by  a  painted  cloth  be  kept  in  awe. 

Cf.,  for  right,  III.  ii.  97-98,  note;  and,  for  construction,  III. 
ii.  222-23,  and  Introduction,  p.  43,  6,  (b). 

III.  ii.  291.    Atalanta's  heels.    Cf.  III.  ii.  150,  note. 

III.  ii.  323,  324,  325.     Who.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  43,  3,  (a). 

III.  ii.  328.  Trots  hard.  It  seems  best  to  take  hard  in  the 
sense  of  "uneasily,"  "uncomfortably,"  so  that  the  week 


188  NOTES. 

seems  as  long  as  seven  years.  But  Furness  and  others 
take  hard  =  "fast,"  implying-  that  the  bride  goes  through 
the  emotions  of  seven  years  in  so  many  days. 

Ill  ii.  354.     Cony.    Rabbit. 

Ill  ii.  355.     Kindled.     Born. 

III.  ii.  357.     Purchase.     Acquire. 

III.  ii.  358-66.  In  this  speech  Rosalind  makes  a  second 
attempt  to  bring  the  conversation  round  to  love.  Cf.  line 
316,  above. 

III.  ii.  359.  Religious.  Belonging  to  a  religious  order, 
monastic. 

III.  ii.  360.     Inland.    Cf.  II.  vii.  96,  note. 

III.  ii.  361.  Courtship.  Used  in  the  double  sense  of  "court- 
ership"  and  "love-making." 

III.  ii.  364.     Touched.     Tainted. 

III.  ii.  365.     Taxed.     Blamed.     Cf.  II.  vii.  71. 

III.  ii.  375.  There  is  a  man  haunts.  Cf.  Introduction,  p. 
42,  3,  (d). 

III.  ii.  380.  Fancy-monger.  Used  contemptuously  for 
"dealer  in  love  fancies." 

III.  ii.  382.     Quotidian.    A  fever  recurring  daily. 

III.  ii.  390-91.    Blue  eye.     Blue  round  the  eye. 

III.  ii.  392.     Unquestionable.    Averse  to  conversation. 

III.  ii.  394.  For  simply,  etc.  For,  in  simple  truth,  your 
possession  in  the  way  of  a  beard  is  as  small  as  the  revenue 
that  a  younger  son  gets. 

III.  ii.  400-401.  Point-device.  (Fr.,  d  point  devis.)  Scrupu- 
lously correct. 

III.  ii.  419.    Merely.    Cf.  note  on  line  442,  below. 

III.  ii.  420.  A  dark  house  and  a  whip.  Formerly  the  usual 
treatment  for  lunacy. 

III.  ii.  429.    Moonish.    Inconstant,  variable. 

III.  ii.  436-37.    Entertain.    Receive  graciously. 

III.  ii.  439.  Humour.  Whim.  In  the  next  line  it  means 
"disposition,"  "tendency." 

III.  ii.  440.    Living.    Real. 

III.  ii.  442.  Merely.  Entirely,  the  usual  sense  in  Eliza- 
bethan English.  Cf.  line  419,  above,  which,  however,  may 
have  the  modern  sense. 

III.  ii.  444.    Liver.    The  supposed  seat  of  the  passions. 


NOTES.  189 

III.  iii.  In  this  scene  the  comic  underplot  is  dtroduced. 
There  is  nothing-  corresponding-  to  it  in  Lodge. 

III.  iii.  3.  Feature.  Used  of  personal  appearance  in  gen- 
eral. The  word  is  not  intelligible  to  Audrey. 

III.  iii.  8.  Capricious.  A  pun  on  Lat.,  caper,  a  goat.  Goths 
is,  of  course,  a  pun  on  ugoat."  Augustus  banished  Ovid  to 
Tomi,  in  the  land  of  the  Getae,  on  the  Black  Sea. 

III.  iii.  10.  Ill-inhabited.  Having  an  unsuitable  habita- 
tion. 

III.  iii.  11.  Jove  in  a  thatched  house.  Referring  to  the  storj 
in  Ovid  of  Jupiter  and  Mercury  who,  in  the  form  of  men 
were  hospitably  entertained  by  two  aged  peasants,  Baucis 
and  Philemon,  in  their  thatched  cottage. 

III.  iii.  15-16.  A  great  reckoning,  etc.  A  heavy  bill  for  poor 
accommodation. 

III.  iii.  22-23.  May  be  said,  etc.  Two  constructions  are  here 
confused:  (1)  may  be  said  to  be  feigned;  (2)  it  may  be  said 
they  do  feign.  To  avoid  this  some  editors  insert  "it"  before 
may. 

III.  iii.  27.     Honest.     Virtuous.     Cf.  I.  ii.  43. 

III.  iii.  30.     Hard-favoured.     Plain-looking. 

III.  iii.  33.     Material.     Full  of  matter,  or  ideas. 

III.  iii.  40.  Foul.  The  word  means  "homely"  as  well  as 
"dirty."  Audrey  uses  it  in  the  former  sense. 

III.  iii.  44.  Sir.  This  title  was  applied  not  only  to 
knights,  but  to  those  who  had  taken  the  degree  of  B.  A.  at 
a  University,  and  so,  loosely,  to  all  clergymen,  who  on  this 
account  were  known  as  "the  pope's  knights." 

III.  iii.  51.     Stagger.     Hesitate. 

III.  iii.  54,  57,  59.  Horns.  It  was  a  standing  Elizabethan 
joke  that  a  man  whose  wife  was  unfaithful  wore  horns. 

III.  iii.  61.    Rascal.     A  deer  out  of  condition. 

III.  iii.  63.     More  worthier.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  41,  2. 

III.  iii.  66.    Defence.    The  art  of  self-defence. 

III.  iii.  67.  Horn.  There  seems  to  be  here  an  additional 
reference  to  the  horn  as  the  symbol  of  plenty,  in  antithesis 
to  want.  The  same  double  use  occurs  in  2  Henry  IV.,  I.  ii. 
52,  "He  hath  the  horn  of  abundance,  and  the  lightness  of 
his  wife  shines  through  it.'* 

Ill  iii.  70.    Dispatch  us.     Settle  our  affair. 


190  NOTES 

III.  iii.  79.     God  'ild  you.     God  yield  you,  reward  you. 

III.  iii.  81.    Be  covered.    Jaques  had  taken  off  his  hat. 

III.  iii.  83.  Bow.  The  curved  piece  of  wood  partially 
encircling  the  neck  of  an  ox,  and  forming  part  of  the  yoke. 

III.  iii.  84.  Falcon  her.  The  falcon  is  properly  the  female 
hawk,  the  male  being  called  a  "tercel." 

III.  iii.  95-96.  I  am  not  in  the  mind  but  I  were  better.  I  am 
not  sure  that  it  would  not  be  better  for  me.  The  phrase  "I 
were  better"  is  formed  on  the  analogy  of  "you  were  bet- 
ter," where  "you"  was  originally  a  dative,  (  =  "it  were 
better  for  you,")  but  came  to  be  mistaken  for  a  nominative. 
See  Abbott,  §§  230,  352. 

III.  iii.  102,  110.  We  must  be  married  .  .  .  I  will  not  to  wed- 
ding with  thee.  The  inconsistency  here  may  perhaps  be  ex- 
plained (if  Shakspere  meant  it  to  be  explicable)  by  suppos- 
ing- that  before  Touchstone  sings  this  fragment  of  an  old 
song,  he  goes  apart  to  listen  to  the  counsel  offered  by  Jaques, 
and  is  persuaded  to  postpone  the  wedding.  "The  marriage 
is  deferred  in  order  that  Touchstone  and  Audrey  may  form 
a  fourth  couple  at  the  wedding  in  the  last  scene."  (War.) 

III.  iv.  The  prose  part  of  this  scene  has  no  counterpart  in 
Lodge. 

III.  iv.  7.  Dissembling  colour.  Red  hair  was  supposed  to 
signify  deceitf ulness,  and  Judas  was  conventionally  repre- 
sented as  red-haired. 

III.  i •;*.  13.  Kisses.  It  is  to  be  remembered  that  at  the 
end  of  Scene  ii.  Orlando  and  Rosalind  went  off  togetherN 
after  the  arrangement  for  the  mock  wooing,  so  that  we  did 
not  see  the  end  of  the  interview. 

III.  iv.  15.  Cost.  Discarded.  But  Furness  interprets  it 
as  "chaste." 

III.  iv.  36.  Question.  Conversation.  Cf.  "unquestionable" 
in  III.  ii.  392. 

III.  iv.  41.     Brave.     Fine.     Cf.  "bravery"  =  finery. 

III.  iv.  44.  Traverse.  Across.  To  break  a  lance  thus  was 
considered  clumsy  and  disgraceful. 

III.  iv.  45.  Puisny.  Literally,  "born  later"  =  "younger," 
and  so  inferior.  The  modern  spelling  is  "puny"="small.'r 

ill.  iv.  51.     Who.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  41,  3,  (a). 

,JCII.  iv.  60.    For  metre,  cf.  Introduction,  p,  39,  3. 


NOTES.  191 

III.  v.    This  scene  introduces  the  pastoral  underplot. 

III.  v.  8.    For  metre,  cf.  Introduction,  p.  39,  5. 

III.  v.  5.  Falls.  Lets  fall.  For  intransitive  verbs  used 
transitively,  cf .  Abbott,  §  291. 

III.  v.  7.  The  order  is  inverted.  "He  that  lives  by  bloody 
drops,  and  dies,"  i.e.,  "until  he  dies,"  uall  his  life." 

III.  v.  13.    Atomies.    Cf.  III.  ii.  243,  note. 

III.  v.  23.  Cicatrice.  Scar.  Capable  impressure.  Percep- 
tible impression. 

III.  v.  26.    Nor  ...  no.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  42,  5,  (a;. 

III.  v.  29.    Fancy.    Love.    Cf .  II.  iv.  31. 

III.  v.  39.  Than  that  you  may  go  to  bed  without  its  being 
worth  while  to  have  light  to  gaze  on  it. 

III.  v.  42.    For  metre  c,f.  Introduction,  p.  39,  5. 

III.  v.  43.  Sale-worn.  " Ready-made  goods. »  (Clar.)  'Od't. 
A  corruption  of  "God's."  Cf.  IV.  iii.  18,  note. 

III.  v.  47.    Bugle.    A  glass  bead. 

III.  v.  48.    Entame.    Make  tame. 

III.  v.  49.    For  metre,  cf .  Introduction,  p.  39,  5. 

III.  v.  51.    Properer.    Handsomer. 

III.  v.  53-54.  Makes  .  .  .  flatters.  Cf.  Introduction,  p.  42, 
4,  (a). 

III.  v.  55.     Out  of  you.    As  reflected  by  your  admiration. 

III.  v.  61.    Cry  the  man  mercy.    Ask  the  man's  pardon. 

III.  v.  62.  An  ugly  woman  is  most  ugly  when  she  is  ill* 
natured  besides.  For /owl,  cf.  III.  iii.  40,  note. 

III.  v.  74.    For  metre,  cf .  Introduction,  p.  39,  5. 

III.  v.  79.    Abused.    Deceived. 

III.  v.  81.  Dead  shepherd.  Christopher  Marlowe  (1564- 
1593),  the  greatest  of  Shakspere's  predecessors  in  the 
English  drama.  The  next  line  is  from  his  poem  of  "Hero 
and  Leander."  Cf.  Introduction,  p.  29.  It  was  a  convention 
in  pastorals  for  poets  to  speak  of  one  another  as  shepherds. 
Cf.,  e.g.,  Milton's  -'Lycidas."  Saw.  Saying.  Cf.  II.  vii. 
156. 

III.  v.  90.  Neighbourly.  "In  accordance  with  my  duty  as 
a  neighbour,"  referring  to  the  Scripture,  "Thou  shalt  love 
thy  neighbour  as  thyself." 

III.  v.  93.    It.    The  time. 

HI.  v.  100.    Poverty  of  grace.    Lack  of  favors 


192  NOTES. 

III.  v.  108.  Carlot.  Diminutive  of  carle  =  churl  =  peas* 
ant. 

III.  v.  110.  T.  Cf.  I.  i.  154,  note.  Peevish.  Childish, 
wayward. 

III.  v.  118.     For  metre,  cf.  Introduction,  p.  39,  5. 

III.  v.  123.  Constant.  Uniform.  Mingled  damask.  Red  and 
white.  Cf.  Sonnet  cxxx.,  5,  "I  have  seen  roses  damasked, 
red  and  white"  ;  and  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  V.  ii.  295-97: 

Fair  ladies  masked  are  roses  in  their  bud ; 
Dismasked,  their  damask  sweet  commixture  shown. 
Are  angels  vailing  clouds,  or  roses  blown. 

III.  v.  125.    In  parcels.    Part  by  part. 

III.  v.  131.  Am  remembered.  Recollect.  Cf.  II.  vii.  189, 
note. 

III.  v.  133.  Omittance,  etc.  A  proverb.  "Though  I  omitted 
to  pay  him  back,  yet  wo  are  not  quits."  A  parallel  has  often 
been  cited  from  Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  X.  52-53,  "But  soon 
shall  find  Forbearance  no  acquittance  ere  day  end- " 

III.  v.  136.    Straight.    Straightway. 

III.  v.  138.    Passing.    Surpassingly. 

ACT  IV. 

IV.  i.     In  the  matter  of  plot,  this  scene  is  merely  a  contin- 
uation of  III.  ii,  where  the  mock-wooing  was  proposed.    It 
serves,  however,  to  bring  out  still  further  the  characters  of 
Jaques  and  Rosalind,  and  shows  a  gradual  increase  in  inti- 
macy between  Rosalind  and  Orlando. 

IV.  i.  7.  Modern.  Ordinary,  commonplace.  Cf.  II.  vii.  156. 
Censure.  In  Elizabethan  English  this  word  usually  means 
merely  "opinion,"  "judgment."  But  here  there  may  be  a 
shade  of  the  modern  adverse  sense,  as  there  is  in  1. 206  below. 

IV.  i.  15.    Nice.     Fastidious. 

IV.  i.  17.  Simples.  Single  elements; used  of  the  ingredi- 
ents of  a  drug. 

IV.  i.  19-21.  The  text  seems  corrupt  here.  Fl  reads  "by" 
in  line  20,  where  our  text,  following  the  later  Folios,  reads 
"my."  Jaques  evidently  means  to  say  that  the  contempla- 
tion of  his  travels  and  frequent  rumination  on  them  produce 


NOTES  193 

his  particular  kind  of  melancholy,  a  most  humorous  (i.e., 
whimsical)  sadness. 

IV.  i.  33.  God  buy  you.  Cf.  III.  ii.  271,  note.  An.  If.  Cf. 
line  43,  below. 

IV.  i.  40.  Swam  in  a  gondola.  Been  in  Venice.  The  litera- 
ture of  Shakspere's  time  abounds  in  satirical  passages  on 
the  effect  of  Italian  travel  on  Englishmen. 

IV.  i.  51-52.  Clapped  him  on  the  shoulder.  Editors  are  divided 
as  to  whether  this  means  (1)  encouraged,  or  (2)  arrested. 

IV.  i.  63.    Horns.    Cf.  III.  iii.  54,  note. 

IV.  i.  65.  Armed  in  his  fortune.  Furnished  with  wLat  it 
is  his  destiny  to  wear.  Prevents.  Anticipates. 

IV.  i.  71.    Leer.    Originally  "cheek,"  "face." 

IV.  i.  77.     You  were  better.    Cf .  III.  iii.  95-96,  i  )te. 

IV.  i  78c  Gravelled.  Stuck  in  the  sand,  and  so  unable  to 
proceed. 

IV.  i.  80.    Out.    At  a  loss. 

IV.  i.  89-90.  I  should  think  myself  more  virtuous  than 
quick-witted  if  I  could  not  put  you  out. 

IV.  i.  99.     By  attorney.    By  proxy. 

IV.  i.  101.  There  was  not  any  man  died.  Cf.  Introduction, 
p.42,3,  (d). 

IV.  i.  102.  Troilus.  Son  of  Priam  and  lover  of  Cressida, 
killed  by  Achilles  in  the  Trojan  War,  after  Cressida  had 
proved  faithless.  He  is  the  hero  of  Chaucer's  Troilus,  and 
Shakspere's  Troilus  and  Cressida. 

IV.  i.  106-113.  Leander  and  Hero  lived  respectively  at 
Abydos  and  Sestos,  on  opposite  sides  of  the  Hellespont. 
According  to  the  Greek  story,  retold  in  English  in  Shak- 
spere's time  by  Marlowe  and  Chapman, Leander  was  drowned 
swimming  across  to  Hero. 

IV.  i.  145c    Commission.    Authority. 

IV.  i.  147.  There's  a  girl  goes,  etc.  She  says  she  takes 
Orlando  before  the  priest  has  asked  her.  For  grammar,  cf . 
Introduction,  p.  42,  3,  (d). 

IV.  i.  160.    Against.     Before. 

IV.  i.  163.  Diana.  It  is  not  evident  that  Stakspere  had 
any  particular  statue  in  mind  here. 

IV.  i.  165.    Hyen.    Laug-hing  hyena. 

IV.  i.  171.    Make.    Shut 


194  NOTES 

IV.  i.  173.     Will  out.    Cf .  Introduction,  p.  42,  4,  (c). 

IV.  i.  177.  Wit,  whither  wilt?  The  phrase  was  a  common 
saying  for  "What  are  you  after?'* 

IV.  i.  181.  Her  husband's  occasion.  Of  her  husband's 
causing. 

IV.  i.  202.  Pathetical.  The  word  is  used  by  Shakspere  in 
the  sense  of  "moving,"  * 'affecting  to  the  feelings."  Bat 
here  it  is  usually  interpreted  as  a  misuse,  in  the  sense  of 
"shocking." 

IV.  i.  206.    Censure,    Cf .  line  7  above,  note. 

IV.  i.  207.    Religion.    Strict  observance. 

IV.  i.  211.     Misused.    Abused,  libelled, 

IV.  i.  220.  The  bay  of  Portugal.  This  name  is  "still  used 
by  sailors  to  denote  that  portion  of  the  sea  off  the  coast  of 
Portugal,  from  Oporto  to  the  headland  of  Cintra.  The  water 
there  is  excessively  deep,, "  (Clar.) 

IV.  i.  224.     Thought.    Brooding. 

IV.  i.  225.    Spleen.    Capricious  passion. 

IV.  i.  230.    Shadow.    A  shady  spot. 

IV.  ii.  From  the  point  of  view  of  action,  thib,  scene  serves 
chiefly  to  represent  the  passage  of  the  time  of  Orlando's 
absence. 

IV.  ii.  13.  Stage  direction.  The  rest,  etc.  In  F],  this 
stage  direction  is  printed  as  part  of  the  text,  and  some 
editors  have  so  retained  it. 

IV.  iii.  The  first  part  of  this  scene  carries  on  the  pastoral 
underplot.  The  second  shows  us  Rosalind's  power  of  acting 
ber  part  when  taxed  to  the  uttermost,  and  opens  the  Oliver- 
Celia  plot.  In  this  last  part,  however,  any  suggestion  of  the 
love  about  to  spring  up  between  these  two  has  to  be  derived 
from  thMr  supposed  gestures  and  looks  rather  than  their 
words. 

IV.  iii.  5.  Sleep.  The  audience  is,  of  course,  led  to  expect 
"hunt." 

IV.  iii.  18.  Phcenix.  A  fabulous  bird  supposed  to  be  re- 
born from  its  own  ashes  every  five  hundred  years.  Only 
one  existed  at  a  time.  >Ods.  Cf.  III.  v.  43,  note.  Purness 
plausibly  suggests  that  the  frequency  of  these  oaths  ID 
Rosalind's  mouth  is  to  be  interpreted  as  part  of  her 
a\  tempt  to  assume  a  "swashing  and  a  martial  outside." 


NOTES  195 

IV.  iii.  24.     Turned  into.    Brought  into.     (Clar.) 

IV.  iii.  35.  Giant-rude.  Cf.  neighbour  bottom,  in  line  81 
below,  andcf.  Abbott,  §430,  for  similar  compounds. 

IV.  iii.  49.     Vengeance.     Harm. 

IV.  iii.  51.  Eyne.  Eyes.  This  is  the  A.  S.  plural  ending 
Which  still  survives  in  "oxen." 

IV.  iii.  54.  Aspect.  Probably  the  astrological  term,  de- 
noting the  propitious  or  unpropitious  appearance  of  a  planet. 
Cf.  Introduction,  p.  40,  7. 

IV.  iii.  60.    Kind.    Nature. 

IV.  iii.  63.    Deny.    Refuse. 

IV.  iii.  69.  Instrument.  Used  punningly  in  the  two  senses 
of  a  tool  and  a  musical  instrument. 

IV.  iii.  81.  Neighbour  bottom.  Neighbouring  dell.  Cf. 
note  on  verse  35,  above. 

IV.  iii.  82.  Rank  of  osiers.  Row  of  willows.  Cf.  III.  ii 
98,  note. 

IV.  iii.  89.  favour.  Appearance.  Cf.  V.  iv.  27.  Bestows. 
Conducts. 

IV.  iii.  90.  Ripe.  Grown  up.  It  has  been  proposed  to 
emend  ripe  sister  to  "right  forester,"  which,  though  change 
is  not  absolutely  necessary,  gives  very  good  sense  and  cor- 
rects the  defective  metre. 

IV.  iii.  96.    Napkin.    Handkerchief. 

IV.  iii.  100.  Handkercher.  This  represents  the  pronuncia 
tion  still  surviving  in  some  parts. 

IV.  iii.  104.  Chewing  the  food.  This  is  most  frequently 
quoted  "chewing  the  cud"=  revolving.  But  there  is  neither 
authority  nor  necessity  for  the  change. 

IV.  iii.  109  ff.  This  description  of  Oliver's  appearance, 
added  by  Shakspere,  suggests  the  length  of  his  wanderings 
and  so  helps  to  prepare  us  for  his  change  of  heart. 

IV.  iii.  112.  Who.  For  "who"  used  where  modern  Eng- 
lish requires  " which' >  cf.  line  134,  below,  and  Abbott, 
§264. 

IV.  iii.  117.  With  udders  all  drawn  dry.  And  so,  by  impli- 
cation, fierce  with  hunger. 

IV.  iii.  125.    Render  him.    Describe  him  as. 

IV.  iii.  128.     To.    As  to. 

IV.  iii.  134.    Cf .  line  112,  note,  abova 


196  isOTES. 

IV.  iii.  134.  Hurtling.    Noise  of  conflict.    Of.  Julius  Cae- 
sar, II.  ii.  22,  "The  noise  of  battle  hurtled  in  the  air." 
IV.  iii.  137.  Contrive.    Plot.     Cf .  I.  i.  157. 
IV.  iii.  138.  Do  not  shame.    Am  not  ashamed. 
IV.  iii.  141.  For.    As  for. 
IV.  iii.  143.  Recountments.    Narratives. 
IV.  iii.  144.  As.    As,  for  instance. 
IV.  iii.  153.  Recovered.    Restored. 

IV.  iii.  174.  A  passion  of  earnest.    A  real  emotion. 

ACT  V. 

V.  i.    This  farcical  scene  comes  as  a  relief  after  the  emo* 
tional  intensity  of  the  close  of  the  last  act,  and  serves  as  a 
transition   to   the   joyousness  of  the   reconciliations    and 
recognitions  of  the  denouement. 

V.  i.  13.  We  shall  be  flouting.  "We  must  have  our  joke." 
(Clar.) 

V.  i.  14.    Hold.    Restrain  ourselves. 

V.  i.  16.     God  ye.     God  give  you. 

V.  i.  35-39.  The  heathen  .  .  .  open.  "What  he  says  of  the 
'heathen  philosopher'  is  occasion'd  by  seeing  his  hearer 
stand  gaping-  (as  well  he  might),  sometimes  looking  at  him, 
sometimes  the  maid,  who,  says  he,  is  not  a  grape  for  your 
lips."  (Capell,  quoted  in  Var.) 

V.  i.  47.    Ipse.    Lat.,  "he  himself." 

V.  i.  60.    Bastinado.    A  cudgelling.    Bandy.    Contend. 

V.  i.  66.  Seeks.  For  grammar,  cf .  Introduction,  p.  42,  4, 
fa) .  But  it  may  be  merely  a  misprint. 

V.  ii.  This  scene  is  a  business-like  preparation  for  the 
final  disentanglement.  Each  of  the  complications  is  brought 
to  a  point  where  a  single  touch  will  put  all  to  rights. 

V.  ii.  1.  Is't  possible,  etc.  The  sudden  conversion  of  Oliver 
with  the  equally  sudden  consenting  of  Celia,  is  considered  by 
many  critics  the  one  serious  blot  on  the  play. 

V.  ii.  5.  Persever.  This  is  Shakspere's  usual  spelling.  The 
accent  is  on  the  second  syllable.  Cf .  Introduction,  p.  40, 7. 

V.  ii.  14.  Estate.  Settle.  He  ignores  the  fact  that  Duke 
Frederick  had  confiscated  all  his  possessions. 

V.  U.  31.    Handkercher.    Cf.  IV.  iii.  100,  note. 


NOTES.  197 

V.  ii.  32.     Greater  wonders.    His  falling  in  love  with  Celia. 

V.  ii.  33.  Where  you  are.  What  you  mean.  In  this  speech 
Shakspere  attempts  to  disarm  criticism  of  the  sudden  woo- 
ing of  Oliver  and  Celia  by  anticipating  the  objections. 

V.  ii.  35.  Thrasonical.  Boastful.  From  Thraso,  the  brag- 
gart soldier  in  Terence. 

V.  ii.  36.  "I  came,"  etc.  Veni,  vtdi,  vici;  the  dispatch  said 
to  have  been  sent  to  the  Senate  by  Caesar  after  his  defeat  of 
Pharnaces,  king  of  Pontus  in  Asia  Minor,  B.C.  47. 

V.  ii.  42.    Degrees.    In  the  literal  sense  of  "steps." 

V.  ii.  44.    Incontinent.    Immediately. 

V.  ii.  45.     Wrath.    Ardor. 

V.  ii.  46.  Clubs.  These  were  the  weapons  ordinarily  used, 
especially  by  the  London  apprentices,  to  part  combatants. 

V.  ii.  61.    Conceit.    Intelligence. 

V.  ii.  63.    Insomuch.    Because. 

V.  ii.  66.     To  grace  me.    To  advance  myself. 

V.  ii.  69.     Conversed.     Associated. 

V.  ii.  70.  DamnaUe.  Sorcery  was  considered  diabolical 
and  was  punished  with  death.  Rosalind's  magician  was  a 
harmless  one. 

V.  ii.  72.  Gesture.  The  usual  interpretation  is  "bearing," 
"behavior,"  though  Shakspere  does  not  seem  to  use  it  else- 
where in  so  general  a  sense.  For  it,  cf .  I.  iii.  123. 

V.  ii.  76.    Inconvenient.    Disagreeable. 

V.  ii.  77.  Human.  Not  in  any  ghostly  form,  such  as  you 
might  expect  from  magic. 

V.  ii.  80-81.  Tender.  Cherish.  Cf .  note  on  damnable  in  line 
70,  above. 

V.  ii.  85.    Comes.    Cf.  Introduction,  p.  42,  4,  (a). 

V.  ii.  106.  Observance.  Respect.  It  seems  likely  that  either 
this  word  or  the  observance  in  verse  108  is  a  mistake.  "Obe- 
dience, "  "obeisance,"  "endurance,"  "perseverance,"  are 
some  of  the  conjectural  emendations. 

V.  iii.  The  object  of  this  scene  is  primarily  to  afford  an 
interval  before  the  final  scene  where  all  the  complications 
are  solved. 

V.  iii.  4.    Dishonest.    Immodest.    Cf.  "honest,"  in  I.  ii.  4S, 

^.  iii.  5.     Woman  of  the  world.    Married  woman. 

V.  iii.  11.    Clap  into't  roundly.    Begin  at  once. 


198  NOTES 

V.  iii.  13.  The  only.  Only  the.  For  the  inversion  cf.  L 
ii.  209. 

V.  iii.  14.  A.  For  this  use  of  the  article  for  the  numeral, 
cf.  Othello,  II.  iii.  212,  "at  a  birth" ;  All's  Well,  I.  iii.  244,  "of 
a  mind,"  etc.,  and  the  current  phrases  "at  a  sitting,"  "in  a 
word,"  etc. 

V.  iii.  30-33.  In  the  Folio  this  last  stanza  is  printed  second. 
Modern  editors  have  followed  the  better  arrangement  found 
in  a  version  of  the  song  in  a  MS.  in  the  Advocates'  Library 
in  Edinburgh. 

V.  iii.  35.    Matter.    Sense. 

V.  iii.  40.  God  buy  you.  Cf.  III.  ii.  271,  note. 
)  V.  iv.  The  effort  in  this  final  scene  is  to  give  the  greatest 
possible  effect  by  untying  as  many  knots  as  possible  at  ouse, 
and  so  to  intensify  the  happy  ending  of  conventional  comedy. 
The  conversion  of  Duke  Frederick  is  Shakspere's  own,  and, 
like  the  conversion  of  Oliver,  has  been  adversely  criticized. 

V.  iv.  4.    The  hope  is  uncertain ;  the  fear  is  uncertain. 

V.  iv.  5.    Compact.    For  accent,  cf.  Introduction,  p.  40,  7. 

V.  iv.  27.  Lively  touches.  Life-like  characteristics.  Cf. 
III.  ii.  155.  Favour.  Appearance.  Cf.  IV.  iii.  89. 

V.  iv.  32.  Desperate.  Dangerous,  because  of  the  laws 
against  magicians.  Cf.  V.  ii.  70,  note. 

V.  iv.  35.     Toward.    At  hand. 

V.  iv.  40.    Good  my  lord.    Cf.  I.  ii.  1,  note. 

Y.  iv.  45.    Purgation.    Proof.    Measure.    A  stately  dance. 

V.  iv.  48.     Undone.    Ruined  by  not  paying  his  bills. 

V.  iv.  49.    Like.    Was  likely. 

V.  iv.  50.    Ta'en  up.    Made  up.    Cf .  line  107,  below. 

V.  iv.  56.  »IZd.  Yield,  reward.  Cf .  III.  iii.  79.  You  of  the 
like.  The  same  to  you. 

V.  iv.  58.    Copulatives.    People  wishing  to  be  married. 

V.  iv.  60.    Ill-favoured.    Cf .  V.  iv.  27,  note. 

V.  iv.  64.     Your.    Cf .  III.  ii.  59,  note. 

V.  iv.  65.    Sententious.    Given  to  pithy  sayings. 

V.  iv.  67.  Fool's  bolt.  Referring  to  the  proverb,  "A  fool's 
bolt  is  soon  shot."  A  bolt  is  a  blunt-pointed  arrow. 

V.  iv.  68,  Dulcet  diseases.  This  nonsensical  phrase  is  only 
an  instance  of  Touchstone's  love  of  using  fine  words,  irre- 
spective of  meaning. 


NOTES.  199 

V.  iv.  72.    Seeming.    In  seemly  fashion. 

V.  iv.  73.    Dislike.    Express  dislike  of. 

V.  iv.  81.    Disabled.    Said  he  thought  little  of. 

V.  iv.  97.  Quarrel  in  print,  by  the  book.  The  whole  passage 
has  satirical  reference  to  the  books  on  fencing  then  fashion- 
able, which  discussed  such  questions  as  "Of  Honor  and 
Honorable  Quarrels,"  "Of  the  Manner  and  Diversity  of 
Lies."  For  titles  and  contents  of  such  volumes,  cf.  Var., 
pp.  274-76. 

V.  iv.  107.     Take  up.    Cf.  note  on  line  50,  above. 

V.  iv.  115.  Stalking-horse.  A  real  or  artificial  horse,  under 
cover  of  which  hunters  used  to  approach  their  game  without 
being  seen. 

V.  iv.  116.    Presentation.    Show,  cover. 

V.  iv.  118.  Hymen.  The  god  of  marriage.  He  was  a  fre- 
quent figure  in  masques  and  pageants  of  this  nature,  both  in 
the  marriage  scenes  of  plays  at  this  period  and  at  actual 
weddings.  Cf.  the  masque  of  Juno  in  The  Tempest,  IV.  i. 

V.  iv.  118.    Stage  direction.    Still.    Soft. 

f.  iv.  120.    Atone.    Are  set  at  one,  reconciled. 

V.  iv.  124-25.  Her  hand  .  .  .  his  bosom.  The  FI  and  F2 
read  "his  hand,"  and  all  the  Folios,  "his  bosom."  If  the 
readings  in  the  text  are  to  be  taken,  we  must  understand 
the  antecedent  of  whose  to  be  her  in  line  124. 

V.  iv.  140.    Holds  true  contents.    Is  true. 

V.  iv.  158.  Even  daughter,  etc.  I  call  you  daughter,  since 
you  are  no  less  welcome  than  if  you  were  my  daughter. 

V.  iv.  160.    Fancy.    Cf.  II.  iv.  31,  note,  and  III.  v.  29. 

V.  iv.  166.  Addressed  a  mighty  power.  Prepared  a  great 
force. 

V.  iv.  170.    Religious.    Cf.  III.  ii.  359,  note. 

V.  iv.  171.    Question.    Conversation.    Cf.  III.  iv.  36,  note. 

V.  iv.  177.  Offer'st  fairly.  Makest  a  fair  offering  or  wed- 
ding gift. 

V.  iv.  180.    Do  those  ends.    Complete  those  matters. 

V.  iv.  182.     Every.    For  use  as  pronoun,  cf.  Abbott,  §  12. 

V.  iv.  183.    Shrewd.    Hard. 

V.  iv.  185.    States.    Ranks. 

V.  iv.  192.    Pompous.    Full  of  pomp  and  ceremony. 

V.  iv.  194.    Convertites.    Converts. 


200  NOTES. 

V.  iv.  197.  Deserves.  For  grammar,  see  Introduction,  p. 
42,  4,  (a). 

V.  iv.  Observe  how  in  this  parting  scene  Jaques  again 
shows  his  characteristic  quality  to  be  curiosity  rather  than 
sympathy. 

Epilogue.  This  is  spoken  in  his  own  person  by  the  boy 
who  acted  the  part  of  Rosalind. 

4.  Good  wine  needs  no  faish.  A  proverb  meaning  that  good 
wares  need  no  advertisement.  A  bush  or  garland  of  ivy,  the 
plant  sacred  to  Bacchus,  was  frequently  hung  as  a  sign 
before  taverns.  H.  C.  Hart  (quoted  by  Var.,  p.  206)  cites 
Gerard  Leigh  (1591)  to  show  that  the  custom  and  the  prov- 
erb had  a  further  significance,  since  vessels  made  of  ivy- 
wood  were  used  to  test  the  purity  of  wine. 

9.  Insinuate.  Ingratiate  myself.  Cf.  Venus  and  Adonis, 
1012,  "With  Death  she  humbly  doth  insinuate." 

11.     Furnished.    Dressed,    equipped. 

22.  Liked.     Pleased. 

23.  Defied.    Despised. 


WORD  INDEX, 


A,  V.  ill.  14. 

a  many,  IV.  it  19». 
abused,  III.  v.  79. 
addressed,  V.  iv.  166. 
against,  IV.  i.  160. 
Aliena,  I.  lii.  129. 
all  points,  I.  iii.  117. 
allottery,  I.  i.  80. 
amaze,  I.  ii.  119. 
an,  II.  vii.100:  IV.i.33. 
anatomize,  I.  i.  170. 
anatomized,  II.  vii.  56. 
argument,  I.  ii.  299;  III.  i.  3. 
armed  in  his  fortune,  IV.  1. 65. 
as,  II.  i.  6;  IV.  iii.  144. 
aspect,  IV.  iii.  54. 
Atalanta,  III.  ii.  150,  291, 
atomies,  III.  ii.  243;  III.  v.  13 
atone,  V.  iv.  120. 
attorney,  IV.  i.  99. 

Ballad,  II.  vii.  148. 

bandy,  V.  i.  60. 

Barbary,  IV.  i.  159. 

bars  me,  I.  i.  22. 

bastinado,  V.  i.  60. 

batlet,  II.  iv.  50. 

Bay  of  Portugal,  IV.  i.  220. 

be,  II.  vii.  1. 

be  naught,  I.  i.  40-41. 

beggarly,  II.  v.  29. 

bequeathed,  I.  i.  2. 

berbj  .ned,  III.  ii.  182. 

best  (thou  wert),  I.  i.  160. 

bestows,  IV.  iii.  89. 

better,  III.  i.  2. 

bills,  I.  ii.  134. 

blue  eye,  III.  ii.  390-91. 

bob,  II.  vii.  55. 

bolt,  V.  iv.  67. 


bonny,  II.  lii.  C. 

bounds  of  feed,  II.  iv.  8ft, 

bow,  III.  iii.  83. 

brave,  III.  iv.  41. 

bravery,  II.  vii.  80. 

breathed,  I.  ii.  237. 

bringest,  III.  ii.  261. 

broke,  II.  iv.  40 

broken  music,  I.  ii.  154. 

brother,  II.  ii.  17. 

brutish  sting,  II.  vii.  66. 

buckles  in,  III.  ii.  135. 

bugle,  III.  v.  47. 

burden,  III.  ii.  260. 

burghers,  II.  i.  23. 

bush,  Epilogue,  4. 

but  I,  I.  ii.  18. 

but  you  kiss,  III.  ii.  53-54. 

butter- women's  rank,  III.  ii  9% 

Calling,  I.  ii.  253. 
candle,  III.  i.  6. 
capable,  III.  v.  23, 
capon,  II.  vii.  154. 
capricious,  III.  iii.  a 
carlot,  III.  v.  108. 
cast,  III.  iv.  15. 
Celia,  I.  ii.  92. 
censure,  IV.  i.  7,206, 
change,  I.  iii.  103, 
character,  III.  ii.  6. 
charged,  I.  i.  4. 
chase,  I.  iii.  33. 

chewing  the  food,  IV.  iii.  101 
choke,  II.  iii.  61. 
chopt,  II.iv.51. 
churlish,  II.  iv  82. 
cicatrice,  III.  v.  23. 
city-woman,  II.  vii.  74. 
civet,  III.  ii.  69. 
201 


202 


WORD  INDEX. 


civil,  III.  11. 131. 

civility,  II.  vii.  96. 

clap,  V.  iii.  11. 

clapped  him  o*  the  shoulder,  j 

1.51-52. 

clown,  II.  iv.  68. 
clubs,  V.ii.  46. 
coat,  I.  iii.  17. 
colour,  I.  ii.  111. 
comes,  I.  li.  128;  V.  ii.  85. 
comfortable,  II.  vi.  10. 
commission,  IV.  i.  145. 
compact,  V.  iv.  5. 
compact  of  jars,  II.  vii.  5. 
complain  of,  III.  ii.  33. 
complexion,  III.  ii.  200. 
conceit,  II.  vi.  8;  V.  li.  61. 
condition,  I.  ii.  284. 
condition  of  blood,  1. 1. 50. 
consent,  II.  ii.  3. 
constant,  III.  v.  123. 
content,  II.  iii.  68:  III.  ii.  83 
contents,  V.  iv.  140. 
contrive,  IV.  iii.  137. 
contriver,  I.  i.  157. 
conversed,  V.  ii.  69. 
convertites,  V.  iv.  194. 
cony,  III.  ii.  354. 
cope,  II.  i.  67. 
copulatives,  V.  Iv.  58. 
cost  of  princes,  II.  vii.  76. 
cote,  II.  iv.  85. 
could,  I.  ii.  267. 

countenance,  I.  i.  20;  II.  vii.  10& 
counter,  II.  vii.  63. 
courtesy  of  nations,  1. 1  51. 
courtship,  III.  ii.  361. 
cousin,  I.  iii.  43. 
cover,  II.  v.  31. 
covered,  III.  iii.  81. 
cross,  II.lv.  12. 
cry  ...  mercy,  III.  v.61 
curtle-axe,  I.  iii.  118. 

Damnable,  V.  ii.  70. 
dark  house,  III.  ii.  420. 
dead  shepherd,  III.  v.  81. 


dearly,  I.  ill.  35. 
defence,  III.  ill.  68. 
defied,  Epilogue,  23. 
degrees,  V.  ii.  42. 
deny,  IV.  iii.  63. 
desert,  III.  ii.  128. 
deserve,  I.  iii.  37. 
deserves,  V.  iv.  197. 
desperate,  V.  Iv.  32 
despite,  II.  v.  48. 
Destinies  decree,  1. 11. 116, 
device,  I.  i.  183. 
dial,  II.  vii.  20. 
Diana,  IV.  i.  163. 
disabled,  V.  iv.  81. 
dishonest,  V.  iii.  4. 
dislike,  V.  iv.  73. 
dispatch,  III.  iii.  70. 
disputable,  II.  v.  35. 
dissembling  colour,  III,  iv.  9. 
diverted,  II.  iii.  37. 
do  not  shame,  IV.  iii.  138. 
do  those  ends,  V.  iv.  180. 
dole,  I.  ii.  142. 
doublet,  II.  iv.  6. 
down,  L  ii.  234. 
dry,  II.  vii.  39. 
ducdame,  II.  v.  55. 
dulcet  diseases,  V  iv.  58 

Eat,  II.  vii.  88. 
effigies,  II.  vii.  193 
Egypt,  II.  v.  62. 
embossed,  II.  vii.  67. 
enforcement,  II.  vii.  lid, 
entame,  III.  v.  48. 
entertain,  III.  ii.  436. 
envious,  I.  ii.  261. 
erring,  III.  ii.  133 
estate,  V.  ii.  14. 
even  daughter,  V.  iv.15* 
every,  V.  Iv.  182. 
exceeded,  I.  ii.  264. 
exile,  II.  i.  1. 
expediently,  III.  i.ia 
extent,  III.  i.  17. 
eyne,  IV.  iii.  5L 


WORD  INDEX. 


203 


Fair,  III.  II.  94. 

falcon  her,  III.  ill.  84. 

falls,  III.  v.  &. 

false  gallop,  III.  il.  113. 

fancy,  III.  v.  29;  V.  iv.  160. 

fancy-monger,  III.  ii.  380. 

fantasy,  II.  tv.  31. 

favour,  IV.  iii.  89;  V.  iv.  27. 

feature,  III.  iii.  3. 

feed,  II.lv.  85. 

feeder,  II.  iv,  101. 

fells,  III.  il.  58. 

flrst-born,  II  v.  62. 

fleeces,  II.  iv.  81. 

fleet,  I.  i.  128. 

flouting,  V.  i.  13 

flux,  II.  i.  52. 

fond,  II.  iii.  7. 

fools,  II.  i.  22. 

fool's  bolt,  V.  iv.  67, 

for,  IV.  iii.  141. 

Forest  of  Arden,  1. 1. 124-25 

forked  heads,  II.  i.  24. 

formal  cut,  II.  vii.  155. 

fortune,  II.  vii.  19. 

forwardness,  I.  ii.  163. 

foul,  III.  iii.  40;  III.  v.  62. 

free,  II.  vii.  85. 

freshly,  III.  ii.  241 

friends,  I.  iii.  63. 

full,  III.  ii.  4. 

function,  II.  vii.  79. 

furnished,  Epilogue,  It 

Gallant,  II.  Ii.  17. 
gamester,  I.  i.  179. 
Gargantua,  III.  il.  235. 
gentle,  I.  i.  50. 
gesture,  V.  ii.  72. 
giant-rude,  IV.  iii.  35. 
girl  goes,  IV.  1. 147. 
go  about,  I.  i.  190. 
God  buy  you,  III.  ii.  271;  IV 

V.  Iii.  40. 

God  »ild  you,  III.  iii.  79. 
God  ye,  V.  1. 16. 
God's  making,  IH.  ii.  21t 
golden  world,  I.  i.  i2». 


goldsmiths'  wives,  III.  ii.  285. 

good  my  complexion,  III*  ii.200 

good  my  lord,  V.  iv.  40. 

good  wish,  I.  iii.  25. 

grace,  1.1.162;  V.  ii.66 

gracious,  I.  ii.  205. 

graff,  III.  ii.  118. 

gravelled,  IV.  i.  78. 

great  reckoning,  III.  iii.  15. 

greater  wonders,  V.  ii.  32. 

grow  upon,     I.  i.  94. 

Handkercher,  IV.  iii.  100;  V.  ii.  31 

hard-favoured,  III.  iii.  30. 

harm,  III.  ii.  83. 

have  with  you,  I.  ii.  276. 

he,  Li.  181. 

headed  evils,  II.  vii.  67. 

hearing  of,  II.  vii.  4. 

heart,  III.  ii.  259. 

heathen  philosopher,  V.  i.  35-39 

her  hand,  V.  iv.  124. 

Hero,  IV.  i.  106-113. 

him,  I.  i.  48. 

hinds,  I.  i.  22. 

his,  II.  vii.  163;  III.  ii.  133 

his  son,  I.  ii.  257. 

hold,  V.  i.  14. 

holds  true  contents,  V.  iv.  K& 

holla,  III.  ii.  256. 

honest,  I.  ii.  43;  Hi.  iii.  27. 

honesty,  II.  iv.  93. 

horn,  III.  iii.  67. 

horns,  III.  iii.  54,  57,  59;  IV.  I.  63. 

hose,  II.  iv.  7. 

housewife  Fortune,  I.  ii.  35-36. 

human,  V.  ii.  77. 

humorous,  I.  ii.  286;  II.  iii.  8;  iv 

i.21. 

humour,  III.  ii,  439. 
huntress,  III.  ii.  4. 
hurtling,  IV.  iii.  134 
hyen,  IV.  i.  '65. 
Hymen,  V.iv.118. 

"I  came,"  etc.,  V.il.  36. 
I  to  live,  III.  ii.  157. 
\  A  were  merrier,  I.  H.  4. 


WORD  INDEX. 


I  would  not  change  It,  II.  i.  18. 
Mid,  III.  iii.79;  V.  iv.  56. 
ill-favoured,  V.  iv.  60. 
ill-favouredly  ,  I.  ii.  44. 
impressure,  III.  v.  23. 
in  lieu  of,  II.  iii.  65. 
in  the  mind,  III.  iii.  95. 
incision,  III.  ii.  78. 
incontinent,  V.  ii.  44. 
inconvenient,  V.  ii.  76. 
Ind,  III.  ii.  87. 
inland,  III.  h.  360. 
inland  bred,  II.  vii.  96. 
insinuate,  Epilogue,  9. 
insomuch,  V.  ii.  63. 
instance,  II.  vii.  156;  III.  ii.  56. 
instrument,  IV.  iii.  69. 
intendment,  I.  i.  145. 
invectively,  II.  i.  58. 
invention,  II.  v.  47. 
ipsef  V.  i.  47. 

It,  I.  i.  154;  I,  iii.  123;  III.  v.  93;  V. 
ii.  72. 

Jaques,  II.  i.  2b. 
^ewel,  II.  i.  14. 
Jove,  III.  iii.  11. 
Jove's  tree,  III.  ii.  248. 
Juno's  swans,  I.  iii.  76, 

Kind,  IV.  iii.  60. 
kindle,  I.  i.  189. 
kindled,  III.  ii.  355 
kisses,  III.  iv.  9. 

Leander,  IV.  i.  106-lia 

learn,  I.  ii.  6. 

leer,  IV.  i.  71. 

lieu,  II.  iii.  65. 

like,  V.  iv.  49. 

liked,  Epilogue,  22. 

lined  (filled),  II.  vii.  154. 

lined  (drawn),  III.  ii.  91. 

little,  III.  ii.  143. 

lively  touches,  V.  iv.  27. 

liver,  III.  ii.  444. 

lives  and  dies,  III.  ».  7. 


living,  III.  ii.  440. 
look  you,  II.  v.  33. 
low  content,  II  iii.  68. 
Lucretia,  III.  ii.  151. 

Make,  Li.  33;  II.  iii.  4;  IV  t,  171 

makes,  III.  v.  53. 

man  haunts,  III.  ii.  375. 

manage,  I.  i.  14. 

marry,  I.  i.  87. 

material,  III.  iii .  3?>. 

matter,  II.i.68;  V.  iii.  35. 

may  be  said,  III.  iii.  22-23. 

measure,  V.  iv.  45. 

medlar,  III.  ii.  119. 

merely,  III.  ii.  419,  442. 

mettle,  II.  vii.  82. 

mines,  I.  i.  23. 

mingled  damask,  III.  v.  123. 

misprised,  I.  i.  187;  I.  ii.  196. 

misused,  IV.  i.  211. 

modern,  II.  vii.  156;  IV  i.7. 

moe,  III.  ii.  275. 

moonish,  III.  ii.  429 

moral,  II.  vii.  29. 

more  sounder,  III.  ii.  65. 

more  worthier,  III.  iii.  63. 

mortal  in  folly,  II.  iv.  57-58. 

motley,  II.  vii.  13. 

mountains,  III.  ii.  191. 

Names,  II.  v.  21. 

napkin,  IV.  iii.  96. 

natural,  I.  ii.  54. 

naught,  I.  i.  41;  I.  ii.  71 ;  III.  ii.  1ft 

neighbour  bottom,  IV.  iii.  81. 

neighbourly,  III.  v.  90. 

nice,  IV.  i.15. 

nine  days,  III.  ii.  179. 

no,  1.  ii.  48. 

no  more  do  yours,  II.  iii.  12. 

no  ...  neither,  I.  i.  95-6. 

noble  device,  I.  i.  183. 

nor  ...  not,  II.  iii.  50 

nor  ...  no,  III.  v.  26. 

not  .  .  .  no,  II.  iv.  9. 

nor  no ...  neither,  1. 11. 30-31. 

not  to,  II.  vii.  5& 


WORD  INDEX. 


205 


note,  II.  v.  47. 
nurture,  II.  vii.  97. 

Observance,  III.  ii.  246;  V.  ii.106. 

Observation,  II.  vii.  41. 

occasion,  IV.  i.  181. 

odds  In  the  man,  I.  ii.  172. 

'ods,  III.  v.  43;  IV.  iii.  18. 

Of  ...  of,  II.  vii.  90. 

of  such  a  nature,  III.  i.  16. 

offer »st  fairly,  V.  iv.  177. 

omittance,  III.  V.  133. 

on,  I.  i.  4. 

one  inch  .  .  .  discovery.   III.  ii. 

202-204. 

only,  I.  ii.  209. 
out,  IV.  i.  80. 

out  of  all  hooping,  III.  ii.  199. 
out  of  suits,  I.  ii.  266. 
out  of  you,  III.  v.  55. 

Painted  cloth,  III.  ii.  287-88. 

pale  sphere,  III.  ii.  3. 

palm  tree,  III.  ii.  181. 

pantaloon,  II.  vii.  158. 

parcels,  III.  v.  125. 

parlous,  III.  ii.  47. 

passing,  III.  v.  138. 

passion  of  earnest,  IV.  iii.  174. 

pathetical,  IV.  I.  202. 

patience,  I.  iii.  79. 

peascod,  II.  iv.  52. 

peevish,  III.  v.  110. 

penalty  of  Adam,  II.  i.  ft. 

perceiving,  I.  ii.  57. 

perpend,  III.  ii.  72. 

persever,  V.  ii.  5. 

phoenix,  IV.  iii.  18. 

place,  II.  iii.  27. 

point-device,  III.  ii.  400-401. 

poke,  II.  vii.  20. 

pompous,  V.  iv.  192. 

poor  a,  I.  i.  2. 

poverty  of  grace,  III.  v.  100. 

practise,  I.  i.  163. 

practices,  II.  iii.  26. 

presentation,  V.  iv.  116. 

presently,  II.  vi.  11;  III.  ii.  147. 


presents,  I.  ii.  133-35. 
prevents,  IV.  L  65. 
priser,  II.  iii.  8. 
prodigal,  I.  i.  43. 
proper,  I.  ii.  132. 
properer,  III.  v.  51. 
purchase,  III.  ii.  357. 
purgation,  I.  iii.  54;  V.  iv.  45. 
puisny,  III.  iv.  45. 
pulpiter,  III.  ii.  158. 
Pythagoras,  III.  ii.  182. 

Quail,  II.  ii.  20. 

quarrel  in  print,  V.  iv.  97. 

question,  Ill.iv.  36;  V.  iv.  171. 

quintain,  1.  ii.  271. 

quintessence,  III.  il.  142. 

quit,  III.  i.  11. 

quotidian,  III.  ii  382. 

Rank,  I.  ii.  117. 

rank  of  osiers,  IV.  iii.  82. 

rankness,  1.  i.  95. 

rascal,  III.  iii.  61. 

raven,  II.  iii.  43. 

raw,  III.  ii.  79. 

recountments,  IV.  iii.  143. 

recovered,  IV.  iii.  153. 

religion,  IV.  i.  207. 

religious,  III.  ii.  359;  V.  iv.  170. 

remembered,  II.  vii.  189;  III.  v.  131 

remorse,  I.  iii.  71. 

render,  IV.  iii.  125. 

resolve,  III.  ii.  243. 

respect  of,  III.  ii.  13. 

reverence,  I.  i.  57. 

right,  II.  vii.  84;  III.  ii.  97. 

right  painted  cloth,  III.  ii.  287-884 

righteously  tempered,  I.  ii.  14-15. 

ripe,  IV.  iii.  90. 

roundly,  V.  iii.  11. 

roynish,  II.  ii.  8. 

Safest  haste,  I.  iii.  42, 
sale-work,  III.  v.  43. 
sans,  II.  vii.  32, 166. 
savage,  II.  vi.  7. 
saw,  III.  v  81. 


206 


WORD  INDEX. 


saws,  II.  vii.  156. 

school,  I.  i.  6. 

scrip,  III.  ii.  166 

searching  of,  II.  iv.  44. 

seasons*  difference,  II.  1. 6 

seeks,  V.  i.  66. 

seeming,  V.  iv.  72. 

sentence  end,  III.  ii.  139. 

sententious,  V.  iv.  65. 

sequestered,  II.  i.  33. 

service,  II.  iii.  61. 

seven  ages,  II.  vii.  143. 

shadow,  IV.  i.  230. 

she,  III. ii.  10. 

shear,  II.  iv.  81. 

show,  I.  iii.  82. 

shrewd,  V.  iv.  183. 

simples,  IV.  i.  17. 

simply,  III.  ii.  394. 

Sir,  III.  iii.  44. 

sleep,  IV.  iii.  5. 

smother,  I.  ii.  307 

so,  I.  ii.  11. 

sorts,  I.  i.  183 

South  Sea,  III.  ii.  202-204. 

sparrow,  II.  iii.  44. 

sad  brow,  III.  ii.  223. 

speed,  I.  ii.  229. 

spheres,  II.  vii.  6. 

spleen,  IV.  i.  225. 

spoke,  I.  i.  92. 

sport,  I.  ii.  111. 

squandering  glances,  II.  vii.  57. 

stagger,  III.  iii.  51. 

stalking-horse,  V.  iv.  115. 

stand  with,  II.  iv.  93. 

stanzo,  II.  v.  19. 

states,  V.  iv.  185. 

stay,  III.  ii.  216. 

sticks,  I.  ii.  262. 

still,  I.  ii.  246;  I.  Hi.  74;  III.  ii.  57; 

V.iv.118. 

straight,  III.  v.  136. 
strange  oaths,  II.  vii.  150. 
successfully,  I.  ii.  166. 
sudden,  II.  vii.  151. 
suddenly,  I.  ii.  303;  II.ii.19 
sufferance,  II.  ii.  3. 


suit,  II.  vii.  44. 

suits,  I.  ii.266. 

surgery,  III.  ii.  67. 

swam  in  a  gondola,  IV  i.  flfr 

sweat,  II.  iii.  58. 

sweet  my  coz,  I.  H.  1. 

synod,  III.  ii.  153. 

Ta'en  up,  V.  iv.  56 

take  up,  V.  iv.  107 

taller,  I.  ii.  292. 

tax,  II.  vii.  71, 

taxation,  I.  ii.  94. 

taxed,  III.  ii.  365. 

taxing,  II.  vii.  86. 

tender,  V.  ii.  80. 

than  1,  I.  ii.  287. 

thatched  house,  III.  HI.  11. 

the  only,  V.  iii.  13. 

the  rest,  etc. ,  IV.  ii.  13. 

thee,  III.  i.  11. 

thou,  I.i.61;  II.  vii.  198. 

thou  and  I  am,  I.  iii.  98, 

thou  present,  III.  i.  4. 

thou  wert  best,  I.  i.  160, 

thought,  IV.  i.  224. 

thrasonical,  V.  ii.  35. 

thrice-crowned,  III.  ii.2. 

thrifty  hire,  II.  iii.  39. 

to,  IV.  iii.  128. 

touched,  III.  ii.  364. 

touches,  III.  ii.  155;  V.  IV.  29 

toward,  V.  iv.  35. 

traverse,  III.  iv.  44. 

Troilus,  IV.  i.  102. 

trots  hard,  III.  ii.  328. 

trowel,  I.  ii.  116. 

turn,  II.  v.  3. 

turned  into,  IV.  Iii.  24. 

Udders,  IV.  Hi.  117. 
uncouth,  II.  vL  6. 
underhand,  I.  i.  152. 
undone,  V.  Iv.  48. 
unexpressive,  III.  ii.  10. 
unkind,  IL  vii.  175. 
unquestionable,  III.  11.  892. 
unregarded  age,  II.  UL  42 


WORD  INDEX. 


207 


onto,  I.  ii.  258. 

up,  II.  i.  62. 

upon  command,  II.  vii  125. 

Vein,  II.  vii.  94. 
vengeance,  IV.  iii.  49. 
venomous,  II.  i.  13. 
villains,  I.  i.  65. 
voice,  II.  iv.  89. 

Warp,  II.  vii.  187. 
waste,  II.  iv.  97. 
ways,  I.  ii.  228;  II.  iii.  66. 
weak  evils,  II.  vii.  132. 
wear,  II.  vii.  34. 
wearer's,  II.  vii.  73. 
wearing,  II.  iv.  38. 
weary,  II.  iv.  1. 
weeping  tears,  II.  iv.  54. 
well  said,  II.  vi.  15. 
Tfere  better,  III.  iii.  95-96, 
what,  I.i.130;  II.  iv.90. 
wheel,  I.  ii.  36. 
where  you  are,  V.  ii.  33. 


wherein,  1.  11.200;  III.  ii.  230. 

wherein  ...  in,  II.  vii.  139. 

which,  II.  1.  8. 

which  Charles,  I.  ii.  137. 

whiles,  II.  vii.  128. 

Who,  III.  ii.  323,  324,   325;    III. 

51;  IV.  iii.  112. 
wide-enlarged,  III.  ii.  146 
will  out,  IV.  i.  172. 
winter,  III.  ii.  105. 
wit  .  .  .  silenced,  I.  ii.  98. 
wit,  whither  wilt,  IV,  i.  177. 
withal,  I.  i.  144;  I.  ii.  29. 
without,  III.  ii.  174. 
woman  of  the  world,  V.  iii.  5. 
world,  I.  ii.  304. 
wrath,  V.  ii.  45. 

You,  III.  ii.  95. 
you  of  the  like,  V.  iv.  56. 
you  were  better,  IV.  i.  77. 
young  in  this,  I.  i.  59-60. 
your,  IIL  ii.  59-  V  ST  «* 


IV, 


APPENDIX 

(Adapted,  and  enlarged,  from  the  Manual  for  the  Study 
of  English  Classics,  by  George  L.  Marsh) 

HELPS  TO  STUDY 

THE  DRAMA 

In  what  did  the  drama  originate? 

Describe  briefly  the  miracle  plays,  or  "  mysteries, " 
telling  where  they  were  performed,  by  whom,  and  what, 
in  general,  was  their  subject  matter  (pp.  12,  13). 

What  elements  were  contained  in  the  miracle  plays 
that  had  an  influence  toward  the  development  of  comedy? 

What  were  moralities?     Interludes? 

What  foreign  influences  contributed  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  Elizabethan  drama  (pp.  15,  16)  ? 

Name  several  of  Shakspere  's  predecessors  in  the  drama. 
Who  was  the  greatest  of  them? 

Describe  briefly  the  theater  of  Shakspere 's  day  (pp. 
22,  23).  The  characteristics  of  an  Elizabethan  audience. 
Did  Shakspere  write  his  plays  for  posterity  or  to  please 
an  audience  of  hia  own  time? 

SHAKSPERE 's  CAREER 

When  and  where  was  Shakspere  born? 
What  can  you  say  as  to  his  education  (p.  18)  ?  His  occu- 
pations before  he  went  to  London? 

What  do  we  know  about  his  early  years  in  London? 
What  were  his  first  dramatic  efforts   (p.  20)  ?     What 
208 


APPENDIX  209 

other  literary  work,  besides  the  writing  of  plays,  did  he 
do? 

Learn  the  general  characteristics  of  Shakspere 's  work 
during  each  of  the  four  periods  into  which  it  is  divided, 
and  the  names  of  representative  plays  of  each  period 
(pp.  24-27). 

Perry  Pictures  73-75  have  to  do  with  Shakspere  and  his 
home. 

As  You  LIKE  IT — DATE,  SOURCES,  FORM 

What  is  the  date  of  this  play  (p.  29)  ?  In  what  period 
of  Shakspere 's  career  does  it  come? 

When  and  where  was  it  first  published? 

What  is  the  direct  source  of  the  play  (p.  30)  i  The 
source  of  this  source? 

What  important  literary  tendencies  does  Lodge's  novel 
illustrate?  Describe  each  briefly  (pp.  31  ff.),  and  point 
out  all  the  places  you  find  in  the  play  where  either  is  re- 
flected. 

Point  out  where  the  changes  summarized  on  pages  33 
to  37  are  found,  and  give  additional  reasons  for  them; 
that  is,  show  wherein  the  play  is  more  dramatic  or  more 
natural  or  otherwise  more  effective  than  the  novel. 

What  characters  are  entirely  original  with  Shakspere? 
State  in  a  few  words  what  each  one  adds  to  the  effective- 
ness of  the  whole. 

Point  out  examples  of  all  the  different  uses  of  verse 
and  prose  mentioned  on  page  37. 

Where  is  rhyme  found  in  this  play?  Enumerate  all  the 
places  and  give  reasons  for  the  use. 

Find  examples  of  the  variations  in  meter  summarized 
on  pages  38  to  40.  Of  the  peculiarities  of  Shakspere  JB 
language  (pp.  41-43). 

The  note  on  I,  i,  61  (p.  166)  speaks  of  the  "con- 
temptuous '  thou. '  ' '  Was  thou  regularly  a  contemptuous 


210  APPENDIX 

form  of  address?     Distinguish  between  you  and  thou  as 
you  find  them  throughout  this  play. 

DEVELOPMENT  OF  THE  PLOT 

I,  i,  is  almost  wholly  exposition  of  the  situation.  Is 
any  of  it  unnatural?  Why  does  Charles  tell  so  much  news 
of  the  court?  How  much  of  it  was  really  news  to  Oliver? 

Group  the  characters  in  conflicting  or  contrasting  par- 
ties as  they  are  revealed  in  I,  i.  Is  any  character  who  is 
very  important  to  the  main  story  missing  (that  is,  includ- 
ing those  who  are  mentioned  as  well  as  those  who  are 
actually  present)  ? 

What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  of  Rosalind's  speech, 
I,  ii,  26-28? 

Does  Eosalind  at  first  show  any  more  interest  in  Orlando 
than  Celia  shows?  Prove  your  conclusion  (here  and  al- 
ways) by  specific  reference. 

Why  is  there  a  change  to  verse  at  I,  ii,  244? 

Did  Orlando  call  the  ladies  back  (I,  ii,  272)  ?  Do  you 
think  there  was  anything  in  his  action  to  justify  Rosa- 
lind 's  return? 

I,  iii:  How  have  we  been  prepared  for  the  banishment 
of  Rosalind  and  Celia 's  departure  with  her?  Point  out 
specific  passages  (as  I,  i,  118;  I,  ii,  298;  etc.). 

Is  I,  iii,  70  ff.,  consistent  with  previous  indications  as 
to  the  time  of  the  Duke's  banishment? 

With  what  is  I,  iii,  116,  inconsistent? 

What  is  accomplished  in  II,  i?    Is  there  any  action? 

How  does  II,  ii,  prepare  us  for  the  banishment  of 
Oliver  (p.  174)? 

Why  should  the  different  scenes  in  the  Forest  of  Arden 
be  separated  as  they  are?  Are  they  so  separated  when 
the  play  is  now  given?  Why? 

Note  the  difference  in  style  when  Silvius  and  Corin  en- 


APPENDIX  211 

ter,  II,  iv.     What  lyrical  qualities  do  you  find  (e.  g.,  11. 
33-42)?    Why? 

II,  v,  introduces  a  new  character.  What  have  you 
previously  learned  about  him  (II,  i)  ? 

II,  vii:     Is  enough  accomplished  before  Orlando  'a  en- 
trance to  justify  so  much  talk?     What  is  accomplished? 

What  bearing  on  the  plot,  or  relation  to  it,  has  Jaquea' 
speech  on  the  world  as  a  stage  (note  p.  181)?  Amiens' 
song,  lines  174  ff.?  What  happens  while  the  latter  is  be- 
ing sung  ? 

What  becomes  of  Adam  after  Act  II?  Is  his  disap- 
pearance intentional,  do  you  think,  or  an  oversight? 

III,  ii:     What  reasons  do  you  see  for  having  Jaquea 
and  Orlando  at  outs  (pp.  108,  109)  ? 

Does  the  early  part  of  Rosalind's  talk  with  Orlando 
(III,  ii,  311  ff.)  have  any  important  bearing  on  the  plot? 

Point  out  all  the  covert  allusions  made  by  Rosalind  to 
her  true  person  (as  III,  ii,  405,  406,  etc.). 

Do  you  think  it  reasonable  that  Orlando  should  not 
recognize  Rosalind?  Did  it  probably  seem  more  reason- 
able as  acted  in  Shakspere's  time  than  as  acted  now? 
Why? 

III,  iii:     Have  we  had  any  hint  of  Touchstone's  love 
affair  before  this  scene?     Do  we  learn  anything  definite 
about  what  has  preceded  it? 

What  have  we  learned  about  Silvius  and  Phebe  before 
III,  v?  Where? 

Compare  Phebe 's  falling  in  love  with  Ganymede,  with 
Olivia's  falling  in  love  with  Cesario  in  Twelfth  Night. 

IV,  iii:     Why  does  Shakspere  have  Oliver  tell  about 
his  rescue  by  Orlando  instead  of  representing  that  scene? 

What  preparation  have  we  for  Oliver  'g  change  of  heart 
(see  note  p.  195)  ? 

Point  out  places  in  IV,  iii,  where  you  think  there  may 
be  indications  of  the  love  of  Oliver  and  Celia.  Where 


212  APPENDIX 

are  there  later  hints  as  to  this  (p.  149)  ?  What  other 
couples  in  the  play  have  fallen  in  love  at  first  sight? 

Does  Oliver  guess  Ganymede's  sex  when  she  swoons? 

Do  you  agree  with  the  criticism  in  the  note  on  V,  ii,  1 
(p.  196)? 

Of  what  previous  part  of  the  play  do  the  repetitions  and 
balance  on  page  151  remind  you?  Where  do  similar  rep- 
etitions come  later? 

Why  should  not  Rosalind  reveal  herself  to  her  father 
sooner  than  she  does?  Do  you  find  any  other  reason  ex- 
cept that  suspense  suits  the  dramatist's  purpose  better? 
Is  this  also  the  reason  for  the  delay  in  the  marriage  of 
Touchstone  and  Audrey  (III,  iii)  ? 

Is  the  conversion  of  Duke  Frederick  prepared  for  in  any 
way?  Does  it  seem  reasonable?  More  or  less  reasonable 
than  the  reformation  of  Oliver? 

Account  for  "If  I  were  a  woman,"  line  20  of  the 
Epilogue. 

THE  PLOT  IN  GENERAL 

Which  do  you  consider  the  best  of  the  explanations  of 
the  title  given  on  page  164?  Why? 

What  is  the  main  action  of  the  play?  Where  does  it 
begin,  where  does  it  reach  the  height  of  complication, 
and  with  what  event  does  it  end? 

How  many  subordinate  love  actions  are  there?  Show 
to  what  extent  there  is  a  beginning,  a  complication,  and 
an  end  in  the  case  of  each.  Which  ones  cross  others? 

What  may  be  regarded  a&  ihe  main  theme  of  the  play? 
Ill,  v,  82,  has  been  suggested.  Comment  on  the  sugges- 
tion. v 

What  can  be  taken  as  the  moral  of  the  play?  Will  II, 
i,  12,  fit? 

What  elements  of  contemporary  satire  do  you  find  (e.  g., 
V,  iv,  71  ff.)  ? 


APPENDIX  213 

What  references  are  there  to  popular  poetry? 

Where  is  the  Forest  of  Arden  ?  In  a  temperate  climate  ? 
Is  there  any  real  description  of  the  Forest?  How  do  you 
learn  so  much  about  it?  How  is  so  much  out-of -doors 
atmosphere  produced? 

CHARACTERIZATION 

Group  the  characters  in  such  a  way  as  to  show  how 
they  are  balanced  in  pairs — contending,  or  contrasting, 
or  collaborating.  Is  there  any  entirely  detached  character? 

Point  out  all  the  resemblances  you  note  between  Oliver 
and  Duke  Frederick;  Orlando  and  the  banished  Duke. 

Is  Jaques  really  melancholy?  Is  he  any  better  philoso- 
pher than  Touchstone? 

Compare  Rosalind  with  other  women  in  Shakspere  ;s 
plays  who  impersonate  men. 

What  person  (or  persons)  do  you  find  whose  name  ia 
indicative  in  a  humorous  or  satirical  way  of  his  character 
or  occupation? 

Other  questions  bearing  on  characterization  have  been 
given  above  in  connection  with  the  development  of  the 
plot. 

THEME   SUBJECTS 

1.  Shakspere's  life   (pp.  17-28). 

2.  The  drama  before  Shakspere  (pp.  11-17). 

3.  The   stage  of  Shakspere 's  time   (pp.  22-24;   with 
illustration  of  how  different  parts  of  this  play  were  pre- 
sumably staged). 

4.  As  You  Lilce  It  in  relation  to  its  source  (pp.  30-37) . 

5.  Pastoral  elements  in  As  You  Lilce  It  (p.  32). 

6.  The  use  of  prose  in  this  play  (p.  37). 

7.  The  songs  (the  purpose  of  each  and  its  effective- 
ness in  its  place). 


214  APPENDIX 

8.  Narrative  themes  on  the  following  stories: 

Orlando  and  Oliver. 

The  banished  Duke  and  his  brother. 

Orlando  and  Rosalind. 

Oliver  and  Celia. 

Touchstone  arid  Audrey. 

Silvius  and  Phebe. 

9.  A  description  of  the  Forest  of  Arden,  or  some 
forest  the  student  knows  where  events  similar  to  those  of 
this  play  might  be  imagined  to  take  place. 

10.  Discuss  the  reasonableness  of  the  reformation  of 
Duke  Frederick  and  Oliver. 

11.  The  relation  of  Jaques  to  the  main  plot,  or  any 
of  the  minor  plots,  of  the  play. 

12.  The  dramatic  structure  of  As  You  Lilce  It.    (How 
are  the  subordinate  stories  related  to  or  combined  with 
the  main  ones?) 

13.  Satire  in  this  play  (e.  g.,  p.  157,  etc.). 

14.  Character  sketches  of  the  following: 

Orlando.    (Is  he  more  than  a  rather 

conventional  romantic  lover?) 
Rosalind. 
Celia. 
Jaques. 
Touchstone. 

15.  What  becomes  of  Adam?     (Let  the  student  devise 
a  way  to  use  him  later  in  the  play.) 

16.  Lessons  from  As  You  Lilce  It. 

17.  Three  of  the  most  used  quotations  and  the  cause 
of  their  popularity. 

18.  Shakspere's  humor — compare  Dickens. 


APPENDIX  215 

SELECTIONS  FOB  CLASS  BEADING 

Passages  particularly  worth  reading  aloud  or  acting  in 
the  classroom  are  as  follows: 

1.  The  wrestling  match   (pp.  57-64). 

2.  Bosalind  is  banished  (pp.  67-71). 

3.  The  banished  Duke  and  his  companions  (pp.  72-75, 
84-86,  88-91). 

4.  Orlando's  flight  (pp.  76-79,  92-96). 

5.  Corin  and  Touchstone  (pp.  99-101). 

6.  Love  verses  to  Bosalind  (pp.  98,  101-107). 

7.  Bosalind  and  Orlando   (pp.  109-114,  129-35). 

8.  Touchstone    and    Audrey     (pp.     114-18,    145-47, 
152-54). 

9.  Silvius  and  Phebe  (pp.  121-27,  137-40). 

10.  Oliver  arrives  in  the  forest  (pp.  140-44). 

11.  The  climax  in  the  complicated  love  stories   (ppc 
147-52). 

12.  The  conclusion  (pp.  154-63). 


CHRONOLOGICAL  TABLE 

In  the  following  parallel  columns  are  given  the  most  impor- 
tant dates  in  the  history  of  English  and  American  literature, 
from  the  time  of  Shakspere  down  to  1900.  Special  care  has 
been  taken  to  include  the  classics  commonly  read  in  high 
schools,  so  that  the  historical  background  of  any  given  classic 
will  be  apparent  from  the  table: 


AMERICAN 


ENGLISH 

1594-5     Shakspere :    Midsummer 

Night's  Dream. 

1596   (or  earlier)  :      Romeo    and 
Juliet. 

1598  (or  earlier)  :        The     Mer- 

chant  of   Venice. 

1599  Henry  V. 
1599-1600     As  You  Like  It. 


1601-1700 


1601 
1602 


1607 

1608 


1610 


Jamestown 
J.  Smith  : 

tion. 
Strachey  : 

ortory. 


founded. 

A  True  Rela- 

A    True  Rep- 


1620     Plymouth  Colony  founded. 


1603 
1605 


1610 
1611 


1612 
1614 


1616 
1620 


216 


Julius  Caesar. 

Hamlet ;     Twelfth    Night 

(acted). 

Queen  Elizabeth  died. 
Bacon  :     Advancement  of 

Learning. 


Shakspere :  Macbeth 
(acted). 

The  Tempest  (acted). 

"K  ing  James"  Bible 
printed. 

Bacon  :  Essays  (first  edi- 
tion, 1597). 

Raleigh:  History  of 
the  World. 

Shakspere  died. 

Bacon  :    Novum  Organum. 


APPENDIX 


217 


AMERICAN 


1624  J.  Smith :  The  General 
History  of  Virginia. 

1630  Massachusetts  Bay  Col- 
ony founded. 

Bradford :  History  of 
Plimoth  Plantation  be- 
gun about  this  time. 

Winthrop :  Journal  be- 
gun, ended  1649. 


1635  R.    Mather :      Journal 

(written). 

1636  Harvard     College     estab- 

lished. 
1638     New  Haven  founded. 


1640     The  Bay  Psalm  Book. 


1644 


1662 


Williams :       The    Bloudy 
Tenent. 


1650     A.  Bradstreet :     Poems. 


1681 
1682 


1689 
1692 


Wiggles  worth  :     The  Day 
of  Doom. 


C.  Mather  :    Diary  begun. 
Philadelphia  founded. 

King  William's  War. 
Salem  witchcraft  trials. 


ENGLISH 

1623     Shakspere :      Plays    (first 
folio  edition). 


1627     Drayton  :     Ballad  of  Agin- 
court. 


1633  Milton  :     L' Allegro  and  II 

Penseroso. 

1634  Milton:     Comus    (acted). 


1638     Trial   of  John   Hampden. 
Milton  :      Lycidas      (pub- 
lished). 

1642     Theaters  closed. 

Browne :    Religio   Medici. 
1644     Milton :     Areopagitica. 

Battle  of  Marston  Moor. 

1648  Herrick :     Hesperides. 

1649  Charles  I  executed. 

1653     Walton :      The    Compleat 

Angler. 

1660     The  monarchy  restored.    * 
Pepys  :    Diary  begun,  end- 
ed 1669. 


1666  London  fire. 

1667  Milton :     Paradise  Lost. 

1671  Milton :  Paradise  Re- 
gained; Samson  Agonis- 
tes. 

1674     Milton  died. 
1678     Bunyan :     Pilgrim's  Prog- 
ress. 

1681  Dryden :       Absalom     and 

Achitophel. 

1682  Dryden :     MacFlecknoe. 
1688     The  English  Revolution. 


lt>97     Dryden:       Alexander' 9 
Feast. 


218 


APPENDIX 


1701-1800 


1701     Yale  College  established. 

1702-13     Queen  Anne's  War. 

1.702  C.  Mather:  Magnolia 
Chris ti  Americana. 

1704  Boston  News  Letter  estab- 
lished. 


3722     Edwards :     Diary  begun. 


1732  Washington   born. 

1733  Franklin  :    Poor  Richard's 

Almanac  (begun). 

,1741  Edwards:  Sinners  in  the 
Hands  of  an  Angry 
God. 


1755  Braddock's  defeat. 

1756  Woolman :     Journal    (be- 

gun). 

1758  Franklin :  The  Way  to 
Wealth  in  Poor  Rich- 
ard's Almanac. 


1700 
1702 

1704 
1709 
1711 
1712 

1714 
1715 

1719 
1722 

1726 

1728 
1732 


ENGLISH 

Dryden :     Fables   ("Pala- 
mon  and  Arcite,"  etc.). 


Queen       Anne 
throne. 


ascended 


Swift :     Tale  of  a  Tub. 


The 


The 


Steele  and  Addison  : 

Tatler  begun. 
Steele  and  Addison  : 

Spectator  begun. 
Pope :     The  Rape  of  the 

Lock. 

Queen   Anne  died. 
Pope  :     Translation  of  the 

Iliad  (Books  I-IV). 
Defoe  :     Robinson  Crusoe. 
Defoe :     Journal    of    the 

Plague  Year. 
Swift :   Gulliver's  Travels. 
Thomson :     Winter. 
Pope :     Dunciad. 
Pope  :     Essay  on  Man. 


1740     Richardson :     Pamela. 


1742     Fielding:        Joseph     An- 
drews. 
1744     Death  of  Pope. 

1747  Gray  :     Ode  on  Eton  Col- 

lege. 

1748  Richardson :    Clarissa 

Harlowe. 

1749  Fielding:     Tom  Jones. 

1750  Johnson :      The    Rambler 

(begun). 

1751  Gray :     Elegy  Written  in 

a  Country  Churchyard. 
1755     Johnson :       English    Dic- 
tionary. 


APPENDIX 


219 


AMERICAN 

ENGLISH 

1759 

Sterne  :    Tristram  Shandy 

(begun). 

Johnson  :     Rasselas. 

1760 

King      George      III      on 

throne. 

1762 

Macpherson  :     The  Poems 

of   Ossian. 

1764 

Walpole  :     The  Castle  of 

Otranto. 

Goldsmith  :    The  Traveler. 

1765 

Godfrey  :    Juvenile  Poems 

1765 

Percy  :      Reliques   of  An- 

(with    The    Prince    of 

cient  Poetry. 

Parthia,  the  first  Amer- 

ican drama). 

The  Stamp  Act. 

1766 

Goldsmith  :         Vicar      of 

Wakefleld. 

1770 

Goldsmith  :     Deserted  Vil- 

lage. 

1771 

Franklin  :  Autobiography, 

1771 

Encyclopedia    Britannicaf 

first  part,  written. 

first  edition. 

1773 

P.  Wheatley  :     Poems. 

1773 

Goldsmith  :      She    Stoops 

to    Conquer    (acted). 

1775 

Trumbull  :      M'Fingal. 

1775 

Burke  :     Speech   on   Con- 

Henry :      Speech    in    the 

ciliation. 

Virginia  Convention. 

Sheridan  :     The  Rivals. 

1776 

The  Declaration  of  Inde- 

1776 

Gibbon  :    Decline  and  Fall 

pendence. 

of  Roman  Empire. 

Paine  :      Common    Sense. 

1779 

Johnson  :      Lives    of    the 

Poets. 

1783 

The  Treaty  of  Paris. 

1783 

Crabbe  :     The  Village. 

1785 

Dwight  :       The    Conquest 

1785 

Cowper:     The  Task. 

of  Canaan. 

1786 

Freneau  :     Poems. 

1786 

Burns  :     Poems. 

1789 

Franklin  :  Autobiography, 

1789 

Blake  :      Songs    of    Inno- 

second part,  written. 

cence. 

1791 

Boswell  :       Life     of     Dr. 

Johnson. 

1796 

Washington  :         Farewell 

Address. 

1798 

Brown  :     Wieland. 

1798 

Wordsworth      and      Cole- 

J.     Hopkinson  :        Hail 

ridge  :     Lyrical  Ballads 

Columbia. 

("The     Ancient     Mari- 

ner," etc.). 

1801-1900 

1803 

The   Louisiana    Purchase. 

1805 

Scott  :     Lay  of  the  Last 

Minstrel. 

1808 

Scott  :     Marmion. 

220 


APPENDIX 


AMERICAN 

1809     Irving :       Knickerbocker's 
History  of  New  York. 


1812-14     War  with  England. 


1814  Key  :     The  Stew-Spangled 

Banner. 

1815  Freneau  :     Poems. 


1817     Bryant :      Thanatopsis. 


1819  Drake :       The     American 

Flag. 

1820  Irving:    The  Sketch  Book. 
The  Missouri  Compromise. 

1821  Cooper :     The  Spy. 
Bryant :     Poems. 

1822  Irving  :   Bracebridge  Hall. 

1823  Payne :        Home,      Sweet 

Home. 
Cooper:     The  Pilot. 

1824  Irving :    Tales  of  a  Trav- 

eler. 

1825  Webster :       The     Bunker 

Hill  Monument. 

1826  Cooper  :     The  Last  of  the 

Mohicans. 

1827  P  o  e  :        Tamerlane     and 

Other  Poems. 


1831  Poe :    Poems. 

1832  Irving:      The   Alhambra. 
S.  F.  Smith  :    America. 

1833  Poe :      MS.     Found  in  a 

Bottle. 


1809 
1810 
1811 
1812 

1813 
1814 


1815 
1816 


1817 
1818 
1819 

1820 

1821 

1823 

1824 

1825 


Byron  :  English  Bards 
and  Scotch  Reviewers. 

Scott :  The  Lady  of  the 
Lake. 

J.  Austen :  Sense  and 
Sensibility. 

Byron  :  Childe  Harold, 
I,  II. 

Southey  :    Life  of  Nelson. 

Scott :     Waverley. 

Wordsworth  :  The  Excur- 
sion. 

The  Battle  of  Waterloo. 

Byron  .  The  Prisoner  of 
Chillon;  Childe  Harold, 
III. 

Coleridge :     Christabel. 

Keats  :  Poems  (first  col- 
lection). 

Byron :  Childe  Harold, 
IV. 

Scott :    Ivanhoe. 

Keats :     Poems. 

Shelley  :  Prometheus  Un- 
bound. 

Shelley :     Adonais. 

De  Quincey  :  Confessions 
of  an  Opium  Eater. 


Scott : 
Lamb  : 


Quentin  Durward. 
Essays  of  Elia. 


Landor  :  Imaginary  Con- 
versations. 

Macaulay  :  Essay  on  Mil- 
ton. 


1827  A.      and  C.      Tennyson : 

Poems  by   Two    Broth- 
ers. 

1828  Carlyle  :  Essay  on  Burns. 

1830     Tennyson  :    Poems  Chiefly 
Lyrical. 

1832  Death  of  Scott;  The  Re- 

form Bill. 

1833  Carlyle  :    Sartor  Resartus. 
Tennyson  :      Poems. 
Browning :     Paulina. 


APPENDIX 


221 


AMERICAN 

1835  Drake  :     The  Culprit  Fay, 

etc. 

1836  Holmes :  Poems. 
Emerson :  Nature. 

1837  Emerson :  The  American 

Scholar. 
Hawthorne :      Twice-Told 

Tales,  first  series. 
Whittier :     Poems. 

1839  Poe  :    Tales  of  the  Grotes- 

que and  Arabesque. 
Longfellow  :  Voices  of  the 
Night. 

1840  Dana  :    Two  Years  Before 

the  Mast. 

1841  Emerson :      Essays,    first 

series. 

Longfellow  :     Ballads  and 
Other  Poems. 

1842  Hawthorne :      Twice-Told 

Tales,  second  series. 


1843     Poe:     The  Gold-Bug. 

Prescott :       Conquest     of 
Mexico. 


1844  Emerson :    Essays,  second 

series. 
Lowell :     Poems. 

1845  Poe :       The    Raven    and 

Other  Poems. 

1846  Hawthorne:    Mosses  from 

an  Old  Manse. 
1846-48     War   with   Mexico. 

1847  Emerson :     Poems. 
Longfellow :     Evangeline. 
Parkman :       The     Oregon 

Trail. 

1848  Lowell :      Vision    of    Sir 

Launfal. 

1849  Irving:    Oliver  Goldsmith. 


1850     Emerson :    Representative 

Men. 

Hawthorne  :     The  Scarlet 
Letter. 


ENGLISH 

1835  Browning :     Paracelsus. 

1836  Dickens :      Pickwick    Pa- 

pers. 

1837  Victoria  became  Queen. 
De    Quincey :      Revolt   of 

the  Tartars. 

C  a  r  1  y  1  e  :     The  French 
Revolution. 


1840  Macaulay :       Essay    on 

Clive. 

1841  Browning  :    Pippa  Passes. 
Macaulay  :  Essay  on  War- 
ren Hastings. 

1842  Macaulay :     Lays  of  An- 

cient Rome. 

Browning :    Dramatic 
Lyrics. 

1843  Dickens :       A     Christmas 

Carol. 
Macaulay  :  Essay  on  Ad- 

dison. 
Ruskin  :  Modern  Painters, 

Vol.  I. 

1844  E.  B.  Browning:     Poems. 


1845  Browning :     Dramatic  Ro- 

mances  and  Lyrics. 

1846  Dickens  :     The  Cricket  on 

the  Hearth. 

1847  De  Quincey  :    Joan  of  Arc. 
Tennyson  :    The  Princess. 
Thackeray  :     Vanity  Fair. 
C.  Bronte  :     Jane  Eyre. 

1848  Macaulay :       History     of 

England,  I,  II. 

1849  De  Quincey  :    The  English 

Mail  Coach. 

M.  Arnold  :     The  Strayed 
Reveller,  etc. 

1850  Tennyson  :    In  Memoriam. 
Dickens  :     David  Copper- 

field. 


222 


APPENDIX 


AMERICAN 

1851  Hawthorne :      The  House 

of  the  Seven  Gables. 
Parkman  :      The   Conspir- 
acy of  Pontiac. 

1852  Mrs.  Stowe  :     Uncle  Tom's 

Cabin. 


1854  Thoreau :     Walden. 

1855  Longfellow :     Hiawatha. 
Whitman :      Leaves    of 

Grass. 

1856  Motley  :  Rise  of  the  Dutch 

Republic. 
Curtis  :     Prue  and  I. 


1858     Longfellow  :    Courtship  of 

Miles  Standish. 
Holmes  :     Autocrat  of  the 
Breakfast  Table. 


1861-65     The   Civil   War. 


1862-66  Lowell :  Biglow  Pa- 
pers, II. 

1863  Longfellow :  Tales  of  a 
Wayside  Inn. 


1865  Whitman :     Drum,  Taps. 

1866  Whittier :    Snow-Bound. 


ENGLISH 

1851  Thackeray  :     Lectures  on 

English  Humorists. 
G.  Meredith :     Poems. 

1852  Thackeray  :       Henry    Es- 

mond. 

1853  M.      Arnold:        Poems 

("Sohrab  and  Rustum," 
etc.). 
Mrs.  Gaskell :     Cranford. 


1855 


1856 


1857 


1859 


R.   Browning :     Men  and 

Women. 

Tennyson :     Maud. 
Macaulay  :     Essays  on 

Johnson  and  Goldsmith. 
Mrs.   Browning :      Aurora 

Leigh. 
Hughes  :       Tom    Brown's 

School  Days. 


Tennyson  :     Idylls  of  the 

King. 
Dickens  :     A  Tale  of  Two 

Cities. 

G.  Eliot :     Adam  Bede. 
Meredith :      Ordeal    of 

Richard  Fever  el. 
Darwin :      The   Origin   of 

Species. 

1860  G.    Eliot:      The   Mill    on 

the  Floss. 

1861  G.  Eliot:     Silas  Marner. 
Reade  :     The  Cloister  and 

the  Hearth. 

Palgrave :       The     Golden 
Treasury. 

1862  Meredith :     Modern  Love, 

etc. 

1863  G.  Eliot:     Romola. 

1864  Browning  :   Dramatis  Per- 

sona?. 

Swinburne  :     Atalanta  in 
Calydon* 

1865  R  u  s  k  i  n  :      Sesame   and 

Lilies. 

1866  Ruskin  :    A  Crown  of  Wild 

Vlive. 


APPENDIX 


223 


AMERICAN 

1868     Hale  :     The  Man  Without 
a  Country,  etc. 


1870  Bret    Harte :      The   Luck 

of  Roaring  Camp,  etc. 

1871  Ho  wells  :     Their  Wedding 

Journey. 


1873     Aldrich :      Marjorie   Daw, 
etc. 

1876  Mark  Twain  :     Tom  Saw- 

yer. 

1877  Lanier :     Poems. 


1879     Cable :     Old  Creole  Days. 
Stockton  :  Rudder  Grange. 

1881     Whittier:        The     King's 
Missive. 


1886  H.  Jackson  :     Sonnets  and 

Lyrics. 

1887  M.  E.  Wilkins:    A  Humble 
.     Romance,  etc. 

1888  Whitman:      November 

Boughs. 


1890  E.   Dickinson  :      Poems, 

first  series. 

1891  Whitman :     Goodbye,  My 

Fancy. 


1898     War  with  Spain. 


1868  Browning:  The  Ring  and 

the  Book. 

1868-70     Morris :     The  Earthly 
Paradise. 

1869  Tennyson  :      T  he  H  oly 

Grail,  etc. 

1870  D.   G.    Rossetti:     Poems. 

1871  Swinburne  :    Songs  Before 

Sunrise. 

1872  Tennyson :       Gareth    and 

Lynette,  etc. 

1873  Arnold  :      Literature   and 

Dogma. 
1876     Morris  :     Sigurd  the  Vol- 


1878 
1879 

1881 
1882 
1883 
1886 
1887 

1888 

1889 

1891 

1892 
1893 


Stevenson  : 

Voyage. 
Stevenson  : 

a  Donke\ 
Meredith  : 
D.  G.  Rossetti  : 

and  Sonnets. 
Stevenson  :    New  Arabian 

Nights. 
Stevenson  : 

land. 
Stevenson  : 


An    Inland 
Travels  with 

The  Egoist. 
Ballads 


Treasure  Is- 


Kidnapped. 

Stevenson  :       The    Merry 

Men    ("Markheim," 

etc.). 
Kipling:     Plain  Tales 

from  the  Hills. 
B  a  r  r  i  e  :       Auld    Licht 

Idylls. 
Browning :     Asolando. 


Kipling:  Life's  Handi- 
cap. 

Tennyson  died. 

Conington  :  Translation 
of  Aeneid  published. 

Barrie  :     Two  of  Them. 


1901     Queen  Victoria  died. 


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